To link to the entire object, paste this link in email, IM or documentTo embed the entire object, paste this HTML in websiteTo link to this page, paste this link in email, IM or documentTo embed this page, paste this HTML in website

Minutes of the annual meeting of the State Literary and Historical Association

Proceedings of the twentieth and twenty-first annual sessions of the State Literary and Historical Association of North Carolina

jx/r-rnn ryo, zfs
PROCEEDINGS
OF THE
Twentieth and Twenty-First
Annual Sessions
OF THE
State Literary and Historical Association
of North Carolina
RALEIGH
DECEMBER 2-3, 1920
DECEMBER 1-2, 1921
Compiled by
R. B. HOUSE, Secretary
J ) J
) » o
3 t 3 5 Tit
•> > 3 3
RALEIGH
Edwaeds & Broughton Printing Company
State Printers
1922
The North Carolina Historical Commission
J. Bbyan Grimes, Chairman, Raleigh
D. H. Hill, Raleigh T. M. Pittman, Henderson
M. C. S. Noble, Chapel Hill Frank Wood, Edenton
D. H. Hill, Secretary, Raleigh.
Officers of the State Literary and Historical Association
1919-1920
President J. G. deR. Hamilton, Chapel Hill.
First Vice-President Mrs. S. Westray Battle, Asheville.
Second Vice-President T. T. Hicks, Henderson.
Third Vice-President Mrs. M. K. Myers, Washington.
Secretary-Treasurer R. D. W. Connor, Raleigh.
Executive Committee
(With above named officers)
W. K. Boyd, Durham. W. C. Smith, Greensboro.
Mrs. H. G. Cooper, Oxford. F. B. McDowell, Charlotte.
Marshall DeL. Haywood, Raleigh.
1920-1921
President D. H. Hill, Raleigh.
First Vice-President Mrs. H. A. London, Pittsboro.
Second Vice-President C. C. Pearson, Wake Forest.
Third Vice-President Miss Gertrude Weil, Goldsboro.
Secretary-Treasurer R. B. House, Raleigh.
Executive Committee
(With above named officers)
W. W. Pierson, Chapel Hill. W. H. Glasson, Durham.
A. B. Andrews, Raleigh. Josephus Daniels, Raleigh.
Burton Craige, Winston-Salem. R. D. W. Connor, Chapel Hill.
Officers For 1921-1922
President W. K. Boyd, Durham.
First Vice-President S. A. Ashe, Raleigh.
Second Vice-President Mrs. D. H. Blair, Greensboro.
Third Vice-President John Jordan Douglas, Wadesboro.
Secretary-Treasurer R. B. House, Raleigh.
Executive Committee
(With above named officers)
W. C. Jackson, Greensboro. D. H. Hill, Raleigh.
J. G. deR. Hamilton, Chapel Hill. Clarence Poe, Raleigh.
C. C. Pearson, Wake Forest.
PURPOSES OF THE STATE LITERARY AND HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION
"The collection, preservation, production, and dissemination of State litera-ture
and history;
"The encouragement of puhlic and school libraries;
"The establishment of an historical museum;
"The inculcation of a literary spirit among our people;
"The correction of printed misrepresentations concerning North Carolina;
and,
"The engendering of an intelligent, healthy State pride in the rising
generations."
ELIGIBILITY TO MEMBERSHIP—MEMBERSHIP DUES
All persons interested in its purposes are invited to become members of
the Association. There are two classes of members: "Regular Members,"
paying one dollar a year, and "Sustaining Members," paying five dollars
a year.
RECORD OF THE STATE LITERARY AND HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION
(Organized October, 1900)
Fiscal Paid-v
Years Presidents Secretaries Mem'beri
1900-1901 Walter Clark Alex. J. Feild ... 150
1901-1902 Henry G. Connor . . . . Alex. J. Feild 139
190M903 W. L. Poa:teAT .... George S. Fraps 73
1903-1904 C. Alphonso Smith -. . . . Clarence Poe . . . 127
1904-1905 Robert W. Winston Clarence Poe . . . 109
1905-1906 Charles B. Aycock . . .
.
Clarence Poe . . . 185
1906-1907 W. D. Pruden . . . . Clarence Poe 301
1907-1908 Robert Bingham Clarence Poe . . . 273
1908-1909 Junius Davis . , . . Clarence Poe . . . 311
1909-1910 Platt D. Walker . . . . Clarence Poe . . . 440
1910-1911 Edward K. Graham Clarence Poe 425
1911-1912 R. D. W. Connor . . . . Clarence Poe 479
1912.1913 W. P. Few R. D. W. Connor . . . 476
1913-1914 Archibald Henderson R. D. W. Connor , . . 435
1914-1915 Clarence Poe R. D. W. Connor . . . 412
1915-1916 Howard E. Rondthaler. .
.
R. D. W. Connor , . . 501
1916-1917 H. a. London R. D. W. Connor 521
1917-1918 Jambs Sprunt R. D. W. Connor . . 453
1918-1919 James Sprunt R. IX W. Connor . . 377
1919-1920 J. G. deR. Hamilton .... R. D. W. Connor .. 493
1920-1921 D. H. Hill R. B. House .. 430
1921-1922 W. K. Boyd R. B. House
THE PATTERSON MEMORIAL CUP
The Conditions of Award Officially Set" Forth by Mrs. Patterson
To the President and Executive Committee of the Literary and Historical
Association of North Carolina:
As a memorial to my father, and. with a view to stimulating effort among
the writers of North Carolina, and to awaken among the people of the State
an interest in their own literature, I desire to present to your Society a
loving cup upon the following stipulations, which I trust will meet with
your approval, and will be found to be just and practicable:
1. The cup will be known as the "William Houston Patterson Memorial
Cup,"
2. It will be awarded at each annual meeting of your Association for ten
successive years, beginning with October, 1905.
3. It will be given to that resident of the State who during the twelve
months from September 1st of the previous year to September 1st of the
year of the award has displayed, either in prose or poetry, without regard
to its length, the greatest excellence and the highest literary skill and
genius. The work must 'be published during the said twelve months, and no
manuscript nor any unpublished writings will be considered.
4. The name of the successful competitor will be engraved upon the cup,
with the date of award, and it will remain in his possession until October
1st of the following year, when it shall be returned to the Treasurer of the
Association, to be by him held in trust until the new award of your annual
meeting that month. It will become the permanent possession of the one
winning it ofteiiest during the ten years, provided he shall have won it
three times. Should no one, at the expiration of that period, have won it so
often, the competition shall continue until that result is reached. The names
of only those competitors who shall be living at the time of the fim.l award
shall be considered in the permanent disposition of the cup.
5. The Board of Award shall consist of the President of the Literary and
Historical Association of North Carolina, who will act as chairman, and of
the occupants of the Chairs of English Literature at the University of North
Carolina, at Davidson College, at Wake Forest College, and at the State
College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts at Raleigh, and of the Chairs of
History at the University of North Carolina and Trinity College.
6. If any of these gentlemen should decline or be unable to serve, their
successors shall be appointed by the remaining members of the Board, and
these appointees may act for the whole unexpired term or for a shorter
time, as the Board may determine. Notice of the inability of any member
to act must be given at the beginning of the year during which he declines
to serve, so that there may be a full committee during the entire term of
each year.
7. The publication of a member of the Board will be considered and passed
upon in the same mp\iner as that of any other writer.
Mrs. J. Lindsay Patterson.
SUPPLEMENTARY RESOLUTION
According to a resolution adopted at the 1908 session of the Literary and
Historical Association, it is also provided that no author desiring to have
his work considered in connection with the award of the cup shall com-municate
with any member of the committee, either personally or through
a representative. Books or other publications to be considered, together with
any communications regarding them, must be sent to the Secretary of the
Association and by him presented to the chairman of the committee for
consideration.
AWARDS OP THE PATTERSON MEMORIAL CUP
1905
John Chables McNeill, for poems later reprinted in book form as
"Songs, Merry and Sad."
1906—Edwin Mims, for "Life of Sidney Lanier."
1907
Kemp Plummeb Battle, for "History of the University of North
Carolina."
1908
^^Samuel A'Court Ashe, for "History of North Carolina."
1909
—
Clarence Poe, for "A Southerner in Europe."
1910—R. D. W. Connor, for "Cornelius Harnett: An Essay in North Caro-lina
History."
1911
Archibald Henderson, for "George Bernard Shaw: His Life and
Works."
1912—Clarence Poe, for "Where Half the World is Waking Up."
1913
Horace Kephart, for "Our Southern Highlanders."
1914—J. €r. deR. Hamilton, for "Reconstruction in North Carolina,"
1915
William Louis Poteat, for "The New Peace."
1916—No award.
1917
Mrs. Olive Tllford Dar«an, for "The Cycle's Rim."
1^18—No Award.
1919—No Award.
1920
Miss Winifred Kirkland, for "The New Death."
1921—No Award.
WHAT THE ASSOCIATION HAS ACCOMPLISHED FOR THE STATE-SUCCESSFUL
MOVEMENTS INAUGURATED BY IT
1. Rural libraries.
2. "North Carolina Day" in the schools.
3. The North Carolina Historical Commission.
4. Vance statue in Statuary Hall.
5. Fire-proof State Library Building and Hall of Records.
6. Civil War battle-fields marked to show North Carolina's record.
7. North Carolina's war record defended and war claims vindicated.
8. Patterson Memorial Cup.
Contents
Page
Minutes of the Twentieth Annual Session 9
Vitality in State History. By J. G. deR. Hamilton 11
What the World Wants of the United iStates. By John
Spencer Bassett 20
Patriotism. By John Erskine 33
William Richardson Davie. By H. M. Wagstaff 46
An Eighteenth Century Circuit Rider. By Frank Nash 58
North Carolina Bibliography, 1919-1920. By Mary B. Palmer 72
Minutes of the Twenty-First Annual Session 72
Confederate Ordnance Department. By D. H. Hill 80
An Ode. By Benjamin Sledd 92
North Carolina Bibliography, 1920-1921. By Mary B. Palmer 94
The Historian and the Daily Press. By Gerald W. Johnson 97
An Old Time North Carolina Election. By Louise Irby 102
Raleigh and Roanoke. By John Jordan Douglass 112
The Bread and Butter Aspect of North Carolina. By D. D. Carroll 119
Members 1920-1921 124
I
Proceedings and Addresses of the State Literary
and Historical Association of
North Carolina
Minutes of the Twentieth Annual Session
Raleigh, December 2-3, 1920
THUKSDAY EVEIsTIN^G, December 2nd.
The twentietli annual session of the State Literary and Historical
Association of Korth Carolina was called to order in the auditorium
of the Woman's Club, Raleigh, IN". C, Thursday evening, Deceniber
2nd, 1920, at 8 :00 o'clock. President J. G. deR. Hamilton in the
chair. The session was opened with an invocation by Rev. W. W.
Peele, Pastor of Edenton Street Methodist Church, Raleigh. Dr.
Hamilton then read the president's annual address. His subject was
"Vitality in State History". He was followed by Dr. John Spencer
Bassett, Professor of History, Smith College, Northampton, Mass.,
whose subject was "What the World Wants of the United States".
At the conclusion of Dr. Bassett's paper an informal reception
was held for the members of the State Literary and Historical Asso-ciation,
the Worth Carolina Folk Lore Society, and the Worth Car-olina
Library Association, in the clufb building.
FRIDAY MORlSriWG, December 3rd.
The session was called to order in the Hall of the State Senate by
President Hamilton, at 11 o'clock. The President presented Dr.
H. M. Wagstaff of the University of Worth Carolina, who read a paper
on, "Davie and Federalism." Dr. Wagstaff was followed by Mr. Frank
Wash, Assistant Attorney General of Worth Carolina, who read a paper
entitled "An Eighteenth Century Circuit Rider". The president then
presented Miss Mary B. Palmer, Secretarj^ of the Worth Carolina
Library Commission, who read "Worth Carolina Bibliography, 1919
—
1920".
At the conclusion of the exercises Dr. D. T. Smithwick of Louis-burg,
presented the following resolution:
To the members of the State Literary and Historical Association:
I find no provision for the election of honorary members of our Asso-ciation,
and thinking there are a number of people who are eligible and
10 Twentieth Annual Session
have gained distinction, maybe native North Carolinians in other states,
whose connection with us would he of great value, I feel it would be
wise for us at this meeting to make some provisions for election of honorary
and life members.
Therefore, make this motion, that the newly elected President and
executive committee to be constituted a committee to make a report to
our next meeting, with suitable provision for election of honorary mem-bers
and the qualifications of such persons proposed for membership.
D. T. Smithwick, Louisburg, N. C.
T'lie resolution was passed. The president tlien appointed a nomi-nating
committee with, instructions to report their nominations of
officers for the succeeding year at the evening meeting. This com-mittee
was as follows : Mr. Frank ^ash, Dr. C. C. Pearson, and Dr.
J. M. McConnell.
FKIDAY EVEISril^G, December 3rd.
President Hamilton called the meeting to order at 8 :30 in the
auditorium of Meredith College. He then introduced Dr. John Ers-kine,
of Columbia University, who read an address entitled "Patriot-ism'\
At the conclusion of Dr. Erskine's paper the nominating committee
reported the following nominations, which were unanimously carried
:
President, D. H. Hill, Raleigh; First Vice-President, Mrs. H. A. Lon-don,
Pitts'boro; Second Vice-President, C. C. Pearson, Wake Forest;
Third Vice President, Miss Gertrude Weil, Goldsboro ; Secretary Treas-urer,
R. B. House, Raleigh.
The Association then adjourned sine die.
ADDRESSES
Vitality in State History ^
By J. G. deR. Hamilton
President State Literary and Historical Association
Almost from the time that conscious historical study began there
has been argument as to the nature, value, and content of history
which has not yet resulted in any agreement universally accepted. It
still means to many people one or another of a large number of things,
many of which it is not. Doubtless there are many persons present
who can recall a time when the name denoted nothing save a dreary cata-logue
of wars and battles, of dynasties and administrations, of isolated
and perfectly insulated names and dates. To one who has never reached
conceptions of history more advanced than this, my subject could have
little or no meaning, for if that be the only content of history, truly
there is no vitality in it.
Of great interest and intensity has been the discussion on the sub-ject
of the purpose and value of history. Opinions have ranged from
that which has held it a purely cultural subject, full of scholarly
detachment from the supposedly tainting touch of anything practical
and useful, but replete from interest to many individuals properly
educated up to it, all the way to the various views of a more utilitarian
character. These are many. Probably the most widespread is that the
value of history lies in its service as a guide of conduct in matters of
statecraft. Other claims made for it have been that it is calculated
to discipline the memory, stimulate the imagination, and develop the
judgment; to give training in the use of books; to furnish entertain-ment;
to set up for conscious imitation ideals of conduct and of social
service; to inculcate practical knowledge that can be turned to account
in the daily concerns of life; to illuminate other studies; to enrich
the humanity of the student, enlarge his vision, incline him to chari-table
views of his neighbors, to give him a love of truth, to make him
in general an intelligent well-disposed citizen of the world by making
him a citizen of the ages.
Another, widely prevalent for a time in the recent past, is that
history teaches) patriotism and should be written and taught with that
* The author desires to express his sense of obligation for aid received in the preparation
of this paper from the following works: James Harvey Robinson, "The New History;"
Dewey, "Reconstruction in Philosophy;" Frederic Harrison, "The Meaning of History;"
and Henry Johnson, "Teaching of History."
12 Twentieth Annual Session
end almost solely in view. Let me turn aside briefly from my subject
to remark that history made to order for^ the teaching of patriotism is
likely to bear as little relation to truth as its resulting effects
bear to essential patriotism. An outraged world has, in the greatest war
of history, repudiated and /punished the most striking example of this
sort of history teaching and this sort of patriotism. It remains for
patriotic Americans to see that we do not err in the same direction.
From the beginning of history writing to the point where a broad
conception of values in history in relation to man's environment and
daily life appeared was a slow development. In the beginning history
was held to be literature, art, poetry, which preserved the record of
certain dramatic events, chiefly the heroic actions of kings, warriors,
and statesmen. It sought to paint a picture, '^to consecrate a noble
past," rather than to guide or furnish a key to the future. But in
the eighteenth century a fresh point of view influenced historical study.
The aim was no longer so much to paint a picture as it was to solve a
problem—to explain the steps of national growth and prosperity or
their reverse. Under the influence of this ideal every factor of
national importance came to be regarded as valuable as a field for
investigation and study, and thus was ushered in the day when history
was generally held to be the story of people rather than of kings.
The same period has seen likewise the steady increase of emphasis upon
social factors other than political and religious, and the consequent
rise of the group emphasized—in some cases overemphasized—^the
economic interpretation of the development of the human race. Here,
too, received a mighty impulse that synthetic process of associating
cause and effect which transformed history from mere annals into a
connected whole.
ISTone of these views of history are as a whole true or yet untrue.
In every point of view there are clear values, but in no one of them
is the whole truth found. Take for instance the cultural aspect of
historical study. The usual view of this fits with the most selfish
view of education ever held, and has in its extreme form little truth,
for knowledge that does not connect with life and its problems, that
does not tend to give sounder notions of human and social interests,
is meaningless. Bolingbroke thus describes it
:
"An application to any study that tends neither to make us better men
and better citizens is at best but an ingenious sort of idleness ....
and the knowledge that we acquire by it is a creditable kind of ignorance,
nothing more. This creditable kind of ignorance is, in my opinion, the
whole benefit which the generality of men, even the most learned, reap
from the study of history."
State Litekaey and Historical Association 13
Still, viewed from another light, it is in individual culture, training,
and education that history yields its richest values. Bolingbroke saw
this, and continued
:
"And yet, the study of history seems to me of all others the most proper
to train us up to private and public virtues."
^or, to go to the other extreme, does the utilitarian claim lack
validity, except in so far as it claims too much. For in the last
analysis, if history is to have values for the average man, and it is
in relation to the average man or the mass of men that I discuss this
suhject, it must he practically useful and in a social sense it can be
considered important only in so far as it meets that requirement.
If the values of history be estimated rightly there is really little
or no conflict between the cultural and utilitarian views. But
what is the value of historical study and knowledge? Is an acquain-tance
with the events, men, and ideas of the past of benefit to those in
the world today ? There is little difficulty in answering these questions.
There is widespread agreement that the study of history does cultivate
the mind, develop clear thinking, and give capacity to estimate the
character of social movements and forces. It does fulfill almost every
claim made for it. Knowledge of history lifts its possessor to a
height from which, detached and aloof from the turmoil and uproar
of his immediate environment, he can comiprehend the nature of exist-ent
institutions and conditions, and can trace the forces which operate in
the life and progress of nations and of the world for good and evil.
As few other acquirements it tends to the development of wholesome
tolerance. It enables him to play a constructive, positive part in
the formation and maintenance of effective public opinion, that compel-ling
social and political force. But a widespread belief that from the
study of past events sufficient knowledge may be acquired to meet the
new problems which arise is true only as far as this : experience in the
analysis of past movements and conditions develops a capacity to analyze
similarly the movements and conditions of the present. In the words of
Lecky
:
"The same method which furnishes a key to the past forms also an
admirable discipline for the judgment of the present. He who has learnt
to understand the true character and tendencies of many succeeding ages
is not likely to go very far wrong in estimating his own."
In other words, the past does not furnish exact precedents for conduct
in meeting similar situations, because similar situations rarely or
never arisa History cannot accurately be said to repeat itself. But
14 Twentieth Annual Session
historical study has value hecause through it we may gain such a know-ledge
of the past that our conduct may he based upon, complete under-standing
of existing conditions.
As concrete examples of the value of historical study, take the cases
of Jefferson and Madison. Both were profound students of history
and both applied practically their knowledge in striking fashion and
with such success that their names are held in honor and the world
would have been a far poorer place had they been less informed on the
suJbject. Yet the conditions which they faced had never had any par-allel
in history. Their use of history lay in the capacity which it gave
them to analyze situations and conditions accurately and, while adapting
themselves to their environment, at the same time shape it for the
future. A not less significant example is that of a living American
who has won the moral leadership of tha world and a glorious immor-tality.
If there be here present any who doubt the value of historical
knowledge, let them remember that out of history have come our daily
life, our laws, our customs, our thought, our habits of mind, our beliefs,
our moral sense, our ideas of right and wrong, our hopes and aspir-ations.
Let them conceive, if it be humanly possible, of a world
from which has been swept away every vestige of what may properly be
called historical knowledge, from which was gone, not alone the know-ledge
of the great events, hut all records and the very memory of the
great movements and achievements of the past in literature, art, science,
and industry; of all customs, traditions, laws, and institutions; of
religion; of all human hopes and human beliefs. Can imagination
create a picture of greater and more hopeless confusion and woe ?
History, rightly employed, contains the alkahest of the present and
of the future.
So much for the values of history. What of its content ?
History has been defined as "All we know about everything man has
ever done, or seen, or thought, or hoped, or felt." There are many
definitions still more inclusive, as, "History is the sum' total of human
activity," or, "History in its broadest sense is everything that ever
happened. It is the past itself, whatever that is." Accepting for the
purposes of this discussion the first and narrower definition, it is
clearly an impossibility for any man to acquire knowledge of all history,
and the mass of men must be content with far less. What of all the
things that man has done, seen, thought, hoped, or felt, have values
for the average man? The dramatic? The unusual? The heroic? Or,
on the other hand, the normal? The customary? The humdrum con-
State Literary and Historical Association 15
ditions of life for the mass of men? What is the test—the acid test
—
which shall determine what is pure metal and what is mere dross ?
As I see it, vitality is the final test to be applied, and hj vitality
I mean that character in event or movement which makes it a deter-mining
factor, for good or for evil, in the shaping of the conditions,
present and future, of the generation in which one lives, which
gives sounder notions of human and social interests, which relates
man to the business of living. It is no narrow definition. It covers
a multitude of meanings. It may consist, for example, in satisfying
the natural human curiosity as to the deeper relationships of the
things ahout us, the facts of our environment, and their connection with
the past—"that power which to understand is strength, which to re-pudiate
is weakness'\ Vital events, vital movements, vital conditions,
are the only ones which are worthy of widespread study and assimilation
so far as the generality of men are concerned.
Applying this test, it will be found that the dramatic, the unusual,
and even the heroic events of the past have far less vital importance
than is usually attributed to them, while the normal conditions of life
lie at the heart of all the great movements which have shaped the past
and through it the present. And so the man who uses history rightly
values events not for their dramatic interest but for the light they
cast on the normal conditions which lay back of them and caused them.
And knowledge of these conditions is chiefly valuable for the grasp
it gives of the ways in which society functions and of their influence
upon the present. The aim is not the knowledge of the past ; knowledge
is a mere means towards the end of full living. The end of it all is
that, through a more perfect understanding of our environment, we may
develop sounder notions of human and social interests and the capacity
to "cooperate with the vital principle of betterment," both in enriching
our environment and adapting ourselves to its necessities, in order
that we may grow. For, here as elsewhere, growth is the moral end.
The value of the past lies not in itself but in our todays and tomorrows.
Thus those things which touch directly the life of the world of today
or of the future and which may bring or retard growth are vital
to us.
John Richard Green saw this, and in his "Short History of the
English People" said:
"If I have said little of the glories of Cressy, it is because I have dwelt
much on the wrongs and misery which prompted the verse of Langland
and the preaching of Ball. ... I have set Shakespere among the
heroes of the Elizabethan age and placed the scientific inquiries of the
16 Twentieth Annual Session
Royal Society side by side with the victories of the New Model. If some of
the conventional figures of military and political history occupy in my pages
less than the space usually given them, it is because I have had to find
a place for figures little heeded in common history . . . the figures of
the missionary, the poet, the painter, the merchant, or the philosopher."
If these conclusions are true, as I earnestly believe they are, it
is clearly apparent that there has been a vast waste of time and energy
in the effort to instil historical knowledge into the minds of the mass
of men. Anyone who is familiar with history as it is generally written
and taught will bear me out in the statem^ent that it has too often
emphasized the unusual at the expense of the normal; that it has
been long on events and short on movements; that it has, more often
than not, lacked any clear distinction between the vital and the
meaningless; that it has not given the student the type of training
and knowledge which he can apply to the problems which he must con-front.
In short, we have been too often content to attempt to give in-formation
and have not sought to stimulate the development of real
knowledge capable of practical application to life.
]^owhere have the misconceptions as to the place, function, and
value of historical study been more apparent and more striking than
in the field of the history of the States of the American Union, and
this in spite of the fact that the span of years of the oldest of them
has been so short that it is not beyond the power of anyone to acquaint
himself with its whole course to the present. 'Nor are the sources
of their history lost and their origins wrapped in doubt and mystery.
In the case of every one of them it is the brief story of the develop-ment
of a people, so simple to be mastered that it is almost true
that he who runs may read. It is also a fact easily to be proved,
I think, that widespread knowledge of state history among its cit-izens
is not only practicable, bait that its possibilities in the way of
good results to the commonwealth are boundless.
Take the case of our own commonwealth, IsTorth Carolina. If the
things which I have indicated constitute the vital in history, must
we not revise our past attitude towards the history of the state as we
have taught it and chiefly emphasized it ? Let us ask ourselves frankly
if we have not been inclined to emphasize in that history the things
whichj are, if vital at all, of secondary importance in reaching correct
judgments concerning the things which have made us what we are, or
concerning the problems of the state today. As a result of the teach-ing
of our history does the average !N'orth Carolinian have any back-ground
of knowledge and training by which he can analyze existing
State Literary and Historical Association 17
situations in order to base opinion concerning them and conduct in
relation to them upon a sure foundation ? Have we not, in a too eager
desire for primacy, too frequently selected for emphasis happenings
which have had little or no real influence on the later life of our
people, which play no part in our life today? Similarly, have we not
ignored the conditions, movements, and tendencies which have vitality,
which would serve to explain to us why we are what we are, an analysis
of which might render us more capable of shaping our destiny for the
better? Frankly, have we not sought to write and teach the things
calculated to develop a sort of purposeless ancestor worship, to breed
perfect contentment, a smug satisfaction with what we are and have been,
rather than to emphasize the larger and more significant facts calcu-lated
to breed dissatisfaction, a divine discontent which might lead
us faster along the paths of progress?
Eor the evidence is overwhelming that our past has not been all
glorious, and that its inglorious features rather than their reverse
have constituted a large part of the normal conditions v/hich have
shaped our present.
We are reminded at every sight of the state flag that we claim
certain primacies in the struggle against the mother country in defense
of the principle of no taxation without representation. It is a fact
far more vital to our present that from 1776 to 1920—nearly a cen-tury
and a half—we have lived under a self-imposed system of tax-ation
which in iniquity has far surpassed anything that the Crown
and Parliament of Great Britain in their most arbitrary and supposedly
tyrannical mood ever dreamed of imposing on us.
Again, we emphasize the individualistic tendencies of our people
as indicating a love of liberty, but we fail to show that it has man-ifested
itself most notably in our inability to organize effectively
foT the common good, to develop any widespread civic consciousness
and civic responsibility, to see in taxation a method of cooperative
support of a cooperative undertaking for the general welfare. Rather
we have viewed taxes as an imposition which it was right at any cost
of morals to evade, and, as a result, have lived for most of our years,
through the denial of opportunity to the majority of our citizens',
in a state of servitude. Perhaps you ask, "Liberty loving N'orth
Carolina in servitudef Yes, the servitude which is of all those of
the ages the most grinding* depressing, and enduring, the servitude
imposed by ignonance, which throughout our history has held us, as a
commonwealth, tied and bound in its chiains. It has not been confined
2
18 Twentieth Annual Session
to the ignorant. Those it has crushed utterly, cutting them off from
their God-given heritage of freedom, and denying to them and their
children liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and in many cases life
itself, all three of which we have solemnly declared in the Declaration
of Independence to be inalienable rights of mankind. It has imposed
upon the rest—the enlightened—as well, a heavy burden—that of
carrying the dead weight of the whole, and of seeing all their ambi-tions
for JSTorth Carolina's swift advancement die as the gravity of
the load irresistibly held them hack on the paths of progress until
in many cases hope itself died.
In the same way, we have constantly reminded ourselves and the
world that I^orth Carolina was first at Bethel, farthest at Gettysburg
and Chickamauga, and last at Appomattox. I yield to none in my deep
pride and reverence for those men who so nobly and heroically carried
the banners of a lost cause, but I submit in all seriousness that their
achievements are not so vital in our history as are the facts that l^orth
Carolina has been at times first in mortality from typhoid fever
and homicides, farthest for a long stretch of years in white adult
male illiteracy, and at least close to last in recognizing the over-whelming
importance of the great social purposes for which modem
government may be said to exist.
We have all heard of late constant Iboiasting of our fine economy
in government. It is a far more vital fact that we have spent less
for the larger social aims of government than any other state save one,
for there lies the explanation of illiteracy, poverty, the steady loss
of population that drained our life blood through a large part of our
history, the failure to develop the ^almost fabulous natural resources
of the state, the loss of opportunity to millions among whom were doubt-less
innumerable unhonored and unsung Murpheys, Vances, and Aycocks.
We have needed desperately all of these millions, trained and equipped
for constructive citizenship, but more desperately still have we felt
the lack of missing leaders. Their loss is irreparable.
-Tin ally, we have heard much within the last few years of the start-ling
figures of our Federal taxes as illustrative of our prosperity.
The figures are indeed startling when the vital fact is presented that
the Federal taxes paid in the state during the last year amounted to
more by twenty-five million dollars than the state has spent in its
whole history for the compelling duty of educating its children; and
the further fact that the amount paid in the last two years to the
United States in taxes is greater than all that has been expended in
ISTorth Carolina for both public and private education combined since
Amadas and Barlowe first saw the green island of Roanoke.
State Literary and Historical Association 19
These are cbaracteristic instances—extreme ones, if you will—of
the tendency I have indicated, of our failure to apply the test of
validity. All of these and many, many more are vital factors in our
history. For every one of them touches us closely today; all have
had significant effects upon our environment, our opportunity, our
character as a people, upon our whole life. The burden of them will
rest upon our children do what we will.
Do not misunderstand me. The day will never come, and never
ought to come, when we shall fail to recognize and be properly proud
of the deeds and lives which are the spot lights of our history. But
their brightness must not so dazzle us as to blind us to the existence
of the skeleton in our closet. The dead past 'oannot in such a case
bury its own dead; that is our task. Growth and progress demand
that we face the fact of their existence, and sedk for them burial and,
it may be, through our reformation and expiation, final oblivion.
But until we recognize their vitality even in death, history cannot
through the training of our citizens pour out upon us its richest bounty.
To those of the past we owe, perchance, a debt which we can never
pay ; but no payment is demanded other than that of emulation of their
virtues and of being warned by their faults; of remedying the wrongs
they committed, of rectifying their errors, and of fulfilling the things
that they omitted to do. Our great debt is to those who lare yet to
come, and it is in the light of history that we must pay that debt.
In behalf of your children and mine, of the generation yet unborn,
let us in ISTorth Carolina learn the vital things, and so far as in us
lies, set about righting of the wrongs, the undoing of the mistakes,
and the doing of all the things that have been left undone in the
achievement of liberty and justice.
But the task of emphasizing the vital things is not one merely of
the historical specialist or even of the teacher; it is rather the
responsibility of all who love E'orth Carolina. The objective of all
our historical study of the state must be refixed and restated. In
our schools, in our colleges, among our people generally, emphasis
must be laid upon the vital, and the past thus linked with the present
for the sake of the future.
The end of it all should be to show, not alone wherein I^orth Car-olina
is first, but rather the reason for her lagging anywhere, that
the means for improvement may be found ; to give to her sons and
daughters, not only information as to how great she is, but, more vital
still, the knowledge of how through their efforts and their lives she
may become far greater.
What the World Wants of the United States
By John Spencer Bassett, Ph.D., LL.D.
Professor of American History, Smith College
The elections of 1920 have come and gone. They always come and go
once in four years in this country of ours, whether we need them or not.
We have heard the results, and if we are good Americans we have accept-ed
them, whether we wished them or not. This is our country, the
country of all the people, and when the people have spoken in their elec-tions
the individual citizen accepts the result. If he is a good citizen
he ceases to defbate the execution of the decision of the voters. It is
only when the election comes around that he can again bring the matter
into question and debate the wisdom of the policy that has been followed,
or that is proposed for future adoption. I make this plain statement
in the beginning because I wish you to follow me into the discussion
of the evening with minds clear of any party leanings.
Since the war with Spain, twenty-two years ago, the foreign relations
of the United States have steadily enlarged. Much has been said
recently about "entanglements with foreign nations." But for twenty-two
years we have been steadily entangling ourselves with other nations,
binding up our future in certain well defined policies v/hich we cannot
change lat this time without seriously compromising our honor and
interests. We have announced our support of an "open door" in the
East in such terms that we should be deeply humiliated as a nation
if we had to give it up at the demand of other nations. We have
steadily tied ourselves up in the Caribbean Sea by assuming what are
in fact the relations of protectorates over Cuba, Santo Domingo,
Haiti, ^N'icaragua, and Panama. We have become responsible for
the development of the Philippine Islands into la country capable of
self government; and in doing so we have undertaken to protect them
while under our own control ; and if we are able to carry out our announc-ed
purpose of making them independent in due time, we shall have to con-tinue
that protection as against the designs of ambitious neighbors.
In all these respects the United States have accepted obligations in
keepingi with the powers of a great nation. What has been done has
alarmed nobody. It has come about gradually, and the states imme-diately
concerned with us are not strong enough to be dangerous. But
no one knows how soon the obligations we have taken may run counter
State Litekary and Historical Association 21
to the interests of a great power in such a way that our utmost strength
would he necessary to sustain us if the worst came to worst in the
course we have mapped out.
It is also noteworthy that in assuming protectorates over these
states we have acted for our own interests only in an ideal sense. That
is, there is no immediate necessity for estahlishing a protectorate
over any of the states named, except Panama, where the protection
of the canal is a matter of immediate policy. In regard to the other
states we have acted because sagacity shows us that in the long run
it is for our interests to have Cuba, Santo Domingo, and the Philippines
exist in a state of enlightened prosperity, and for that reason we feel
justified in lending our strength in promoting and guiding with a firm
hand, if necessary, the development of these states. 'No^ one objects to
this policy, so far as I know.
Our latest notable extension of our relations with the rest of the
world was in entering the world war. We did not do it because we
wished to, but because it was forced upon us by the bald necessity
of the case. The origin of the struggle was not of our making. It
grew out of a rivalry as old as the centuries. Its seeds were planted
and replanted in the Congiress of Vienna in 1815, the Treaty of San
Stefano, the Congress of Berlin, 1878, and in the negotiations con-nected
with the end of the Balkan war of 1912—1913. The desire
for Constantinople, the jealousies of the Great Powers, the cultiva-tion
of national chauvinism, the false theory that Balance of Power
can preserve peace : all these things were not things of our making, and
they were fundamentally connected with the origin of the war. We
came into it when it had become a life and death struggle for world
empire on the part of G-ermany. If she won no state's life was safe ; so
we believed in 1917, and when she played her last card—ruthless sub-marine
warfare—we were called to strike or eat words that only a
coward could swallow. And so we fought and gave a decisive turn to the
war. When we entered it with energy, in the summer of 1918, the
two sides were near the point of exhaustion, but the advantage was
with Germany. We changed the odds by throwing our fresh and
unexhausted strength into the struggle; and the world was made secure
from the Teutonic threat.
Then rose a situation no one had expected in a very definite man-ner.
The tenseness of the struggle, the exhaustion it created in all
the belligerent states, the misplacing of business and political inter-relation,
and the threatening rise of a proletarian regime all had to be
dealt with. What was going to be the position of the United States
22 Twentieth Annual Session
in this settlement? Many of ns liave asked the question and some
have tried to answer it, some on one side and some on another. It has
been two years and more since the silence of peace settled over
N"o Man's Land, but to this day it is not determined what shall be
the attitude of the United States to the problems that face the world
in its hour of restoration. We have been so lost in the meshes of the
great political debate that we have forgotten to consider the fundamental
situation that lies behind all our contention. It is a situation that
would exist, with o'r without a League of JsTations. It would exist
with an Association of ISTations : It would exist if we set up a world
court without the power of coercion. It would exist, but in another
way, if it was decided that no formal attempts at international cooper-ation
would be made. It is always there, in the fringes of the present,
where today runs into tomorrow, and we cannot know too clearly what
claims it has upon our sympathy and interests. The people are the
rulers. It is we who have to understand so that we may decide. In
its largest and most apparent phase it is closely connected with the
world's industrial life; and we cannot do better than consider for a few
minutes in what respect international industry stands today in a situa-tion
of abnormality, and in what respect our own interests are involved
in its critical condition.
The mechanism of international commerce is the product of long ex-perience.
It depends upon the proper adjustment of international fi-nance,
trade, credits, the supply of raw materials, hopefulness, transpor-tation,
and various other activities. One of its noticeable qualities is
its tendency to go in the channels in which it has been in the habit of
going. For example, when the people of a certain state have become
used to buying and using the merchandise of a certain other state, it is
very difficult to get them to drop what they have been using and begin
to use mechandise that comes from a third state, even though it may
be possible to prove that the merchandise of the third country is better
in itself. It is not often in the history of industry that we encounter
a general shaking up of trade conditions, giving us the possibility of miak-ing
new adjustments without a long period of struggle to capture markets.
But it is just at such a situation that the world has arrived today,
not through its choice, but through its necessities. Countries that form-erly
were firmly established in all the phases of industry are now in severe
straits. The manufacturing, transportation and credit facilities of the
continent of Europe are in a confused condition. It will take them
several years to regain the state of equilibrium, and while they are com-ing
to that happy state the United States have a wonderful opportunity
State Literary and Historical Association 23
to get and hold a footing there, which at later time could be obtained
only by a process of severe competition.
Whether we do or do not utilize the opportunity before us depends
primarily on our business men ; but not entirely. It depends to a not-able
extent on the attitude of the people of the country. Unquestion-ably
there are a few people in the United Sattes who would deliberately
and knowingly block our progress in this respect. But there are many
who could block it by not knowing what the situation is and how their
own views of what the government ought to do in the situation bear
upon it. It is our good fortune to live under a government of the people.
Well, at this moment the people of this country are called upon to decide
whether or not they shall block or promote the development of the United
States in keeping with the industrial and political opportunities that
confront us in international affairs. With the best intentions in the
world our people cannot be expected to act prudently in the matter unless
they understand the opportunities that confront us.
Before 1914 the United States was a debtor nation. For years we
had borrowed money to build railroads, canals and industrial plants, and
to develop mining and agriculture. For the interest on our borrow-ings
we had to pay Europe annually more than $250,000,000. What-ever
else we did this money had to be paid. We fulfilled the descrip-tion
involved in the biblical phrase, '^The ^borrower is a servant of the
lender." We had chosen, also, to put our best efforts into manufactur-ing,
as some sections of our farmers put all their efforts in production
of one crop, expecting to buy what they needed in other respects. Thus
we had given up the operation of a merchant marine and were paying
Europeans $200,000,000 a year to carry our goods to market. This in-terest
charge and this freight bill, with the amount of money our tourists
took abroad with them and some other items, made a grand total of
nearly $600,000,000 a; year.
The sum was so great that it was impossible to pay it in gold, the
only international money. To have tried to do so would have ex-hausted
the stock of gold in the country in a few years, whicih means
that our banks would have been forced to suspend specie payiaents of
their notes. It Was about nine times as much as the amount of gold
mined in this country annually. The other alternative was to pay
it in commodities; and that is what we did. Every year we sent
abroad $600,000,000 worth of products in excess of the value of the
merchandise we imported. If we did not quite make the total out-go
and the total in-come balance we called the difference the balance
of trade. If the prices of our commodities were low the result was
that they did not sell for enough to pay all we owed for merchandise
24 Twentieth Ai^nual Sessioj^
irolported and for tJie stated obligations, and we said tliat the balance
of trade was against us. If they sold for more tban we owed tbe
balance of trade was in our favor. Wken it was against us we sent
gold abroad to pay it, when it was in our favor we received gold
to nUake up the balance. There were times of great uneasiness when
the balance against us was large and the drain of our gold outward
was heavy.
The day Europe broke into war our long period of bondage began
to mend. Europe now began to buy from us far more heavily than
we Vv-ere buying from her. Desiring to keep her gold in Europe she
began to send back to us the bonds we had sold her, and on which
we were paying interest. During the first three years of the war
she miore than canceled the debt we had owed her before the war be^
gan. At the same tim^e we were forced to think of our o^vn ship-ping.
We built it up until we ceased to reily on other countries, and
thus we slaved in our own pockets the larger part of the freight bill
we had formerly paid. iBut the steady stream lof orders for Amer-ican
meirchandise continued to pour into our offices, and by the time
the third year of war was beginning Europe was )forced to go on a
borrowing basis. We now became the lender, and Europe became
the borrower. From having been forced through many years to
wait upon the pleasure of others, we were in a position to have others
wait upon our pleasure.
In May, 1917, the United States had been in the war one month.
Great men from London, Paris, Rome and other cities, some of which
we had to get down atlasses to know where they were, began to arrive
in Washington. They told us many important things about how to
carry on the war into which we had entered ; but they were all urgent
for loans. The big states wanted big loans, the little states would
take lanything we had to offer. And to all of them our government
lent according to their necessities. The British came first, and
the nev/spapers announced that they wished to borrow £50,000,000.
The response in the press was favorable and it was announced that
they wished £100,000,000. After a few days it was stated that the
United States government had decided to lend them $500,000,000.
Probably some of us did not at the time notice the change in terms.
The value of the pound is determined by the British parliament:
the value of the dollar is determined by the congress of the United
States. It was thought just as well that the borrower did not
have the power to fix the value of his own debt symbol. The incident
marks the chanjge of position that had occurred in the financial rela-tions
of the two nations. For the first time in many years Great
State Liteeaey and Histoeical Association 25
Britain was not in the position to dictate. Slie had to accept dic-tation,
which is the ordinary fate of the debtor.
At last the war ended. The horrible wound on the face of the
earth, running from the iborders of Switzerland to the E'orth Sea,
ceased to bleed. Through it hmnanitj had been yielding up its life
for more than four years. It remained to be seen if the patient
had been reduced to such a state of weakness that death would come
of sheer weakness. For more than two years we have been watching
with aiixiety the struggle between exhaustion and the recupera-tive
powers of nature. It is only with the approach of a new spring
season, that we are beginning to feel (that the crisis is about to pass
favorably; but the patient is greatly in need of nourishment, and if
he does not get it ugly complications are possible.
The situation of the world today may be summed up as follows
:
In 1913 the aggregate deibt of the nations of the world was $43,200,-
931,000; since the war, by the best available information it is $279,-
014,9018,000, an increiase of about $236,000,000,000. The United
Kingdom of Great Britain, which was believed to bo heavily in debt
in 1913 at $3,485 millions, now owes $39,314 millions. France
owed them $6,346 millions : she now owes $46,025 millions. Italy
then ov/ed $2,921 millions : she now owes $18,102 millions. Germiany,
including the German states, before the war owed $5,048 millions
she nov/ ov/es on the same basis $59,861 millions. The smaller of
the belligerent nations have, in general, been forced to increase their
indebtedness in the same relative mianner. I^ations that were be-lieved
to be burdened to the limit of prosperity in 1913 have in-creased
their obligation from six to eleven times as much as they
then owed. With industry prostrate they have to aissume the in-creased
burden. On a population filled with discontent they have
to lay new and heavy taxes, with the danger 1}hat a des'pairing elector-ate
may run into the extremes of radicalism and solve their difficul-ties
by repudiating the whole obligation. It is a situation demand-ing
patience and wise assistance from whatever source available.
From this distressed condition of Europe turn the eye to the United
States. In 1913 their ddbt was $1,028 millions: in 1920 it was
$24,299 millions. For the time we were in the war the rate at
which it plunged us in deibt was exceedingly high. If we had been
in from the first, and the same rate ratio had mainjtiained through the
whole war, which is not probable, we should have increased our debt
by more than $62,000,000,000', the interest on which at five per
cent, would have amounted to $3,100 millions la year. And this
26 Twentieth Annual Session
would mean tbat every man^ woman and' ciiild in the country would
pay on an average of $30 a year in taxes merely to pay tlie interest
on the war ddbt. Sucli a burden, lieavy as it seems, would not be
heavier than the burden before which Europe shudders.
The United States, however, came out of the war without having
impaired seriously their powers of production. In fact, so care-fully
had those powers been stimulated during the war that we are
today, as respects manufacturing plants and the mastery of the re-sources
of nature, in a better position than ever before to meet the
demands on our processes 'of production. During the war we im-proved
the processes of agriculture, so that a man with the same
amount of land can make more of la given product than before the war.
At the same time we have materially enlarged our mianufacturing
plants, drawing into them rapidly the working papulation at thte
expense of rural industries. By the census statistics just made public
51% of the population of the country now live in towns and cities; that
is less than half of the people in the country are producing the food
on which the 51% of the population must live. We are thus about
to arrive at the stage of development to which Alexander Hamilton
looked forward in his Report on Manufactures—when we can more
is, less than half of the people in the country are producing the food
its wants in food products.
For a time after peace came to the world, the deanand for our
conmiodities came freely froim tihe utmost parts of the world. We
could sell all we could produce, and more. We have never been able
to satisfy the demand. Today there are people in Europe who are
in dire distress for merchandise that we can make, although our
mills are closed down or on part time, because they cannot sell
to those who have nothing with which to piay. Thus it happens
that textile mills in 'New England are closing down, while people in
Poland are shivering in their outworn and threadbare garments.
The outward expression of such a situation is the rate of exchange.
In normal times nations balance their accounts by figuring the values
of their respective units of money on a basis of the gold value in them.
When, however, the foreign nation has not the goods to export to an-other
nation in payment for what it imports, nor the gold with which
to settle the balance of trade, it stops buying from that nation. When
it sees such a cessation as a possibility, it tends to check its advance
by raising the rate of exchange. For example, in normal times, when
France buy^ from us about what she sells to us, she counts five francs
as approximately equal to our dollar. When her citizens find that
State Literary and Historical Association 27
it is liard to get bills on JSTew York, tliat is bills to pay for wbat France
has exported to tbe United States tbey begin to offer higher sums than
five francs for a dollar. They may offer six or ten if their neces-sities
are great, in these days they are offering, and paying daily,
more than sixteen francs for a dollar. American imports are cost-ing
the French people very dearly. They are costing them so much
that there has been a great shrinkage of orders for them. It is not
likely that there will be a change until the French are able to send us
their own goods more freely than they can now send them. Our
industrial relations with France are similar to our relations with most
other countries. Everywhere, despite the fact that we are not run-ning
factories on full time we are sending out vastly more than we
sent before the war, and more than we are receiving. The world's
balance of trade is in our favor to a large amount.
At the same time we have a large account against the rest of the
world for interest on the loans made by our government during
the war.
The amount of these loans in round numbers is $9,711,000,000 al-though
a slight reduction has been made in some of them through read-justments.
At the same time increased borrowing in private accounts
in our money markets has increased still more the amount of our in-terest
account against Europe. Combining the two items it is esti-mated
that v/e are in a position to demand about $600,000,000 annually
from Europe in payment of interest. At present we are not collect-ing
the interest on our public lendings. If that were demanded it
would put the rate of exchange still higher. While we forego it, how-ever,
it is being paid by the faithful American taxpayer to the amount
of about $405,000,000 a year.
Such is the business situation today in the world. Europe is wound-ed
to the quick, the United States are full of life and energy and ready
for greater achievements than ever before, but suffering just at this
moment because the purchasing power of the rest of the world is so
badly reduced that orders are not being received. What does Europe
want of the United States under these circumstances ? And what reply
should we make to her requests? Is it not that she wants what every
distressed man wants of his strong and prosperous neighbor? It is
not charity to enable her to live in a state of dependence, but aid in
recovering economic independence. For if one of two neighbors lives
in poverty and distress and the other lives in luxury and does not try
to help him who suffers, the happiness and prosperity of each will be
diminished.
28 Twentieth Annual Session
Two metliods of meeting tlie case and rendering help to the sufferers,
are possible. One is to wipe off tlie debts and let Europe make a
new start, so far as we are concerned. The other is to adopt and carry
through a wise plan of helpfulness to enable Europe, our customer, to
get on her feet and pay her debts as she becomes self-supporting again.
The objections to the first plan may be summed up as follows
:
(1) It is not scientific. It is no real help to Europe to make her a
gift, since in accepting it she would lose that sense of self-reliance
which is the basis of good national as well as of good personal character.
The individual is better off when he pays his own debts. (2) Assum-ing
that the bonds are to run for 35 years at four and a quarter per cent,
interest the ultimate sum paid by our taxpayers would be $23,252,000,-
000. That is too much burden to assume unless its assumption is
inevitaWa. In this case it is not inevitable. Europe is not bankrupt,
utterly: she is bankrupt temporarily. There is a way to put her on
her feet again, and that way is to accept the second of the two plans
just mentioned.
When a business concern falls into temporary disaster, it goes into the
hands of a receiver, whose function is to take direction of operations, re^
duce unnecessary expense, cut off unprofitable features of the business,
reform the direction of sales, manufacturing and other departments and
generally re-establish the life and energy of the enterprise. While he
operates he holds in abeyance, if necessary, the payment of obligations
incurred in the past ; and to obtain money to carry on the business in its
new form he issues certificates of receivership, which have status of
preferred obligations over old debts. By this means the receiver is
able to relieve the business of its embarassir^ents, if it is fundamentally
sound, and to put it in a way to pay off its obligations.
There is every reason to believe that the nations of Europe are today
fundamentally sound. They have the working population necessary
to resum>e their ante-bellum operations, they have the plants they once
had, except in the districts in which the ravages of war occurred in
their worst forms; they have the facility to manufacture developed
through long periods of skilful production ; and they have the willingness
to come back. Their great need, like the need of an embarassed cor-poration,
is capital to tide them over the period of re-organization.
If they could be put through some such process as I have indicated
the capital could be obtained- It is only necessary to offer as security
something more than the general pledge of the governments concerned,
since in such case the security is nothing more than the security
State Litekaey and Historical Association 29
behind tlie general debts of these governments, and that is a security
deeply impaired by the weight of debt that the war has produced.
Of course it is difficult to induce the nations of Europe to place them-selves
into the hands of a receiver. Their instincts are against giving
up their full control over their affairs. Certainly, they could not be ex-pected
to place themselves in the hands of any other power, however
great and good. It is not desired that they place themselves under the
supervision of the United States. I^or is it desirable that we should as-sume
any such obligation. Our form of government, our domestic prob-lems,
and our national habits are such as to make it inadvisable to set
ourselves up as the sole guardians in such a matter.
But it would be a different thing if there were an international
commission, in which the nations themselves should have representatives,
to take over the functions of adjustment; and in this commission our
government could have representation. The plan of the League of
N^ations looked forward to such a commission. It does juot yet
appear what is to be the future of the League. But it is not necessary
to have the League in order to have the Commission. It is only ne-cessary
for the governments to pledge their faith to organize it and carry
it through in good faith. It should be endowed with power to tell the
nations concerned what they ought to do in order to restore their finan-cial
health, to enforce during its existence the necessary economies
in public expenditures, and to give direction to the development of
national industry in so far as it is necessary to direct it in order to get
the best possible results out of it. It is an enterprise that would not
involve any of the co-operating states in war, or in any obligations
that would lead to war. It would rest solely upon the world's sense
of good business, a thing which has never failed the world in the past.
^ow the basis of confidence in such a process is the economic
interests of the co-operating states and nations. I can think of no
party to the plan whose happiness would not demand its success. The
merchants of the United States would be interested because it would
give solidity to international trade, the financiers because it would re-move
unoertainty from international investments, the manufacturers
because it would enlarge the markets for their products, farmers because
it would enable foreign purchasers to take more freely of our food and
cotton. The taxpayers of the United States would be deeply interested
in it because it is the surest way for them to escape having to assume
the payment of the money we have loanedj to Europe. Of the people
in Europe I can think of none who would be opposed to such a thing
except those experimenters who declare that human happiness depends
30 Twentieth Annual Session
upon tlie entire overthrow of the existing form of society. They do
not desire the stabilization of society, for their hope is in the spread
of discontent and confusion.
Besides the force that a reasonable sense of self-interest would give
to the plan, we have the power of our credit as a means of protecting
ourselves if worse should come to worse. In any normal condition of
trade in the coming years we can expect the balance of trade to be de-cidedly
in our favor. By calling for the interests on the loans we can
make it necessary for Europe to send us more than four hundred mil-lion
dollars a year on that one account. 'Now outside of the United
States the world's production of gold does not exceed in value $305,-
000,000. If Europe could command all of it—and she cannot do
that—she would not be able to send us in money the interest she owes
on the debt by $100,000,000. Let us say her available gold supply for
export out of increased production in the mines is $250,000,000, which
is liberal, she would still have to find $150,000,000 in either gold or
products to pay her bill. And to this we must add the interest she
will have to pay on the increasing volume of private loans she is con-tracting
in this country. On the other hand, we could use this im-portant
power of credit in such a way as to benefit Europe; or, if it be-came
necessary through some unfair conduct on her part, it could be
used to force her to do as we wished. If, for example, we called to^
day for the interest due on the loan, it would exhaust the gold reserve
of Europe in four years. It would not be necessary to use such power.
The mere existence would be enough to warrant that it would not have
to be used.
In this discussion I have tried to keep the argument on a purely
economic basis; but it has a moral side also. We are in a position to
make ourselves liked in Europe as no other nation has been liked
there, and being liked as a people will promote our business interests
there. It seems inevitable that our capital will have to be loaned
freely to put Europe on her feet again ; but it makes a deal of difference
whether we lend it in a haphazard way, or in accordance with some
scheme that commends itself to the business intelligence of the nation.
If in the former way uncertainty and irregularity will ensue, and
much of the good will and respect that might have been had will be
dissipated.
Before Europe the United States stands today as the rich uncle
who has been to distant lands, accumulated a vast fortune, and comes
back among his impoverished relatives, all of whom are intent on
getting some of his money, which they need sorely. He is not a
!
State Literary and Historical Association 31
selfisti or mean man and he means to help as he can. In carrying out
his purposes he can follow one of three courses. He can hand out
his money lavishly, taking no receipts and asking nothing in return,
in a truly avuncular way. In that case he will receive many kisses
and few thanks. Or he can take the position of the very suspicious
man, who doesn't mean to be hoodwinked by persons who profess their
love and loyalty. In such a case he will have his money screwed out
of him in parcels, some of it going to those who should have it, and some
of it going to those whose tongues are most clever. A third course is
to take a broad view of the situation, confer in good faith with all who
want, get the facts on the situation, lay down on the table as much as
he can spare, and hand it out to those who wish and who will use
it in such a way as will yield him a, safe return while it enables them
to proceed in their business in an advantageous manner. For which
of these courses have you the proper respect? And for which do you
think the beneficiaries will have the greatest gratitude? By follow-ing
the third the wise uncle v/ill make himself a place in the com-munity.
He will be able to write his ideas on its future development
and maintain some kind of control on its course.
What does the world want of this rich and fortunate country of ours ?
Money? Yes, it wants money—not money flung at it in the spirit
of a nabob, as one who should say: "Take it ! I have plenty!" But money
that is the expression of a broad understanding of the world's problems
;
money that is burnished with intelligence; money that talks because
it understands the task it has to do. It needs the help that is an ex-pression
of knowledge. That is the only help that is worthy of us,
and the only help that will yield us the permanent friendship of the
peoples of the world. And if it is given to the world in the way that
makes th<3 world respect our leadership, the result will write the word
"America" across the history of the twentieth century in letters that
shall never fade. It will make for us an influence that is only limited
by the capacity of our country to wield it.
Please do not misunderstand me. I do not wish to force the current
of events. That is always unwise. But it does not seem too much to
urge that the situation actually before the world today be turned over
to men who know how to meet it. When the business intelligence of
the United States has been trusted it has always proved equal to the
demand upon it. Turn over the world's industrial crisis to it. Tell it
to obtain first of all the confidence and co-operation of the business
32 Twentieth Annual Session
intelligence of the stricken countries. I think it can do that, for it
has always been able to do it in the past. Let it, out of this general con-fidence
and co-operation, create the group that is to direct and give
authority to the efforts that are to be made. And while the process is
going on let us all agree that the people of the United States will give
their moral support to the government. Let them also remember to
keeps hands off. There must be no throwing of monkey-wrenches.
There must for once be a trusting of the experts in the realms of the
technical. Whether we shall meet this crisis in some such way as this,
or muddle through it according to the instincts of the moment, is the
great question of the day. What the world wants of the United States
today is business sagacity, breadth of view, and leadership.
Patriotism
By John Erskine, Ph.D., LL.D.
Columbia University
Thougli we cannot say that the outward circumstances of a man's
life are the logical projection of his character, yet we may wish that
they were. In so far as we can make/ the world over, we should like a
man's possessions and the scene he occupies to be, as Socrates prayed,
in harmony with what he is. But however this harmony may be our
desire, it seems to be no concern of the gods ; the human lot, if left to
itself, continues to fall in curious and unequal places, for the historian
to set down, even if he cannot explain them, and for the philosopher to
surmount by whatever wings he may command. Only from time to
time intelligence looks the hard fact in the face, and some strong will
undertakes to bring about in life that order which it cannot find there.
Then, at least for that moment, the race approaches the moral climax of
civilization, when some man assumes responsibility for the environment
in which he has been placed. To make so magnificent an assumption
is once more to steal the fire from heaven. The exploit w^e need not
add, is unusual; the Titan is rare. But no other assumption converts
the stream of experience into a drama so exciting, so human and so
significant, or opens to the imagination a career so bold. In private
life, although we cannot measure the extent to which the accidents of
birth and nature determine our fortunes, yet without hesitation we
distinguish in degree of nobility between him who accepts his fate with
resignation, as something that has happened to him, and him who tries
first to see in each event some witness to his own progress or his own
error in the art of life. Though in this world of infinite changes and
chances we are aware how small an area of experience can ever be
brought under our 'control, yet since the area of responsibility is all the
field we have for the exercise of character, we give our admiration to
the man who would enlarge its boundaries. N^ot only in private life,
but in public affairs as well. There will always be men and women
who conceive of government and of society as sections of environment
related to them geographically, as it were, but not morally—oT^jects for
them to study, to criticize, and possibly to reform. But they whose
character is most exalted, and whose imiagination em!braces the widest
arc of experience, perceive that the reform must begin in themselves,
for they are government, and tJiey are society—or if this is not strictly
3
34 Twentieth Annual Session
the fact, they desire it at once to be so. For them patriotism is a human
and practical religion, a pursuit of their own ideals in the image of their
country, a moral passion urging them to the decisions of intelligence
and of conduct, with possibilities of heaven or hell.
What usually goes by the name of patriotism and takes on extra-ordinary
value in time of war, is the natural love of the soil, of the
place where we and our people have lived. Unless some abnormal in-fluence
pervert us, all men have this love which clings to the world as
it is. Yet this kind of patriotism, one of the most beautiful of instincts,
is nevertheless an instinct, and needs to be distinguished from that rare
moral virtue of which I now speak, which not only regards its environ-ment
with pious affection, but assumes responsibility for it, as for the
consequences of its own choice. The man who never to himself has
said, "This is my own, my native land," is in some sense indeed a
dead soul; he lacks that instinctive piety out of which what we may
call a moral patriotism can rise. But the majority of mankind, who
are frequently conscious of their native land, and who earn thereby the
common name of patriots, do not, after all, deserve the exclusive
award of the title, nor the excessive praise which poets and orators
have lavished upon them. Why should a man be praised for having
that which not to have is to be despicable or maimed? What virtue is
there in having the usual two hands or two eyes? Or what high
place in story should be ours merely for loving the children we beget?
Do we suspect our instincts begin to fail, that we should pride our-selves
on having one good instinct still in common with other
animals? The love of the soil, the love of our own place, like the
aifection for our young, is planted it seems in every heart that heats at
all ; it is not so much a grace of life as a condition on which life is toler-able
; it is so bound up with the other rooted pieties of our nature, that
to separate it, as I wish now to do, from a higher quality, to say that it
is only an instinct, and to praise the virtue that rises upon instinct,
seems to intend violence, even sacrilege, to a sacred trust. Yet without
intending violence or sacrilege, we may properly remind ourselves of
some half forgotten claims of the life of reason. At critical moments of
history there have been thoughtful enquiries as to which kind of patriot-ism
is truly a virtue, the fidelity to the environment, or the insistence
that the environment should be faithful to our character; and twice or
thrice great spirits have tried to dedicate even the mass of common men
to a moral responsibility for the world about them. Such another
critical moment we live through now and we have special need to make
the enquiry once more, ^o single leader has arisen to dedicate us to a
State Literary and Historical Association 35
moral patriotism, and none seems likelj at this moment to arrive. All
the more cause why scholars as a hody, and men of thoughtful habits
should make available for their fellows the wisdom that the race experi-ence
yields. This wisdom, if known, would itself be a kind of leader-ship,
and no other kind, as it seems to me, are we likely to have for some
time.
During the war and since the armistice we have listened to voices un-deniably
great. We have been summoned to sacrifice and to unselfish-ness,
we have had held before us a noble and, however vague, a last-ing
vision of world peace, and we have been urged—we believe not in
vain—to assume responsibility for the conditions of mankind outside our
borders. But at the same time, and wdth an inconsistency not new in
human annals, we have had preached at us, and perhaps we ourselves
have preached, the desirability of only one kind of patriotism at home,
the instinctive kind, which issues in obedience rather than in moral re-sponsibility.
We have watched the coming on the American scene of a
formidable apparition—the spirit which lays upon the political offender,
upon the minority which we hope is mistaken, but which we know is
frank, a condemnation more lasting and more severe than upon the
weakling who hides himself at the nation's call for aid. A deficiency
in the primal instinct to cherish and protect our kindred and the place
of one's birth, we have seen treated iby a considerable and supposedly
solid public opinion, as a not very serious defect, perhaps even a symp-tom
of idealism; whereas a disposition to scrutinize national policy or
national conduct, or to sharpen the public conscience to defects in our
social or political world, with the intent to remedy them, has come to
be thought dangerous as a viper's fangs, not to he argued with but to
be stamped on. The spirit which makes this distinction is, I repeat, a
formidaJble apparition, fraught as I think with no good to our national
philosophy. It is, for one thing, too much like the spectre of ruth-lessness
against which we undertook to crusade, and it has aptitudes for
teaching us those quick ways of dealing with minorities which we used
to consider typical of the older Roissian tyranny. Worst of all, the
spirit which discourages the rational and moral patriotism, and culti-vates
only the instinctive and emotional, will raise up a dragon to devour
those noble dreams of world unselfishness to which, as I said, we have
been called to dedicate ourselves. The love of the soil, so long as it re-mains
only an instinct, has in it no element of concern for anyone
else's land. We need not be surprised, therefore, if a nation trained
to be patriotic instinctively and uncritically, and in no higher way,
subscribes at last to an exclusive nationalism, with indifference, almost
with hostility, to other people.
36 Twentieth Annual Session
To raise the question at all is to incur risk of misunderstanding.
There is the risk of seeming to agree with any political offender who
may come to your mind as illustration of the point just made. In
suggesting that moral patriotism is more desirable than the merely in-stinctive
kind, we may seem blind to the fact that when an instinct is
opposed to an idea it is usually the instinct which prevails; after
enough instruction to convince us of the contrary we still have a feel-ing
that the sun goes around the earth. We know further that to in-timate
the inferiority of the instincts as guides to conduct as over
against the reason is a curious folly in an age like ours when both the
familiar and popular philosophies have chosen to glorify instinct. But
this is an old battle field of intelligence, this opposition of the rational
to the merely instinctive life. At the risk of being misunderstood and
at the still more certain risk of accomplishing no immediate victory, all
of us who have hope for intelligence and would choose the better things
of the mind, must cheerfully enlist once more in the oft-defeated cause
of reason. Though we know that the humane philosophy of Aristotle,
of Christ, and of Aquinas has never yet been widely practised, and that
allegiance to it is ceremonial more often than even theoretically sincere,
yet for us it is still the best that has been said or thought in the world.
And, however vain our chanupionship of it may seem, yet if men will
take even a passing interest in an idea, we may perhaps prepare in the
public mind a greater susceptibility to those seeds of reason which when
they fall only on the instincts, fall on very hard ground indeed. The
League of l^ations, for example, is an idea, but being an idea, it cannot
hope to succeed as the articulation and harmonizing of purely in-stinctive
patriotism. It can become effective only when the patriotisms
brought under it are of the same order as itself, rational 'and moral.
There is no reason to hope, nor particularly to wish, that the various
patriotisms of the world, even though they should become rational,
would be identical or even in much initial harmony with each other, any
more than we can expect the rational ideals of the individual to
coincide with the ideals of his neighbor. But once we have raised
patriotism to the level of reason, we shall have brought it to the
sphere of intelligence and responsibility in which light and agreement
can conceivably be arrived at.
II
Meanwhile, it is only for the principle of patriotism as moral
responsibility that we need to plead. The principle truly needs our
championship. There are those in the world still who find no m.eaning
State Literary and Historical Association 37
in life, who give it up as a hard question put to us daily for our irrita-tion
without hope of an answer. There are others, the majority among
us, who find an answer to the question in obeying our instincts and in
submitting to our environment. There are still a few who look for the
answer in man himself, in his control of his insttincts and his
dedication of the environment to his own uses. The majority of us, I
repeat, have relegated fate to the world about us ; in modem philosophy
it is the universe, not the human race, that has the real adventure in
morals. A few of us, however, following Greek thought as we believe
at its best, would place the throne of fate as much as possihle in our
own nature, giving to ourselves a divine possibility, the freedom of
choice that a god should have, and a responsibility for his actions that
not even a god could avoid. As Herodotus and Thucydides wrote history,
they explained their wars or their other afflictions as caused by the
ambition or the selfishness or the unwise decision of individual men, and
for their happiness and prosperity they gave credit not to the environ-ment
but to their fellows. When Peisistratus set up his tyranny in
Athens, Solon addressed the famous verses to his neighlbors:
"If ye have endured sorrow from your own baseness of soul, impute not
the fault of this to the gods. Ye have yourselves put the power into the
hands of these men."
And when Pericles in his great speech had extolled the city above all
other states, he turned the glory into a crown for the dead:
"The Athens I have praised is only what these men have made it."
The difference between this Greek point of view and ours is a
difference of philosophy, not, as we often fancy, a difference of knowl-edge.
We need only examine Thucydides or Herodotus to be persuaded
how modern were those old historians in their observation of economic
or other advantages or handicaps ; they saw all that we see. Thucydides
tells us that the richest soils are always most suhject to a change of
masters ; he gives as his opinion that Agamemnon was enabled to raise the
expedition against Troy more by his superiority in strength than by the
oaths of the suitors to follow him; he says that the expedition against
Troy was small, not for lack of men but for the difficulty of providing
an adequate commissary, and he thinks the Trojans were able to hold
out so long only because a large proportion of the Greeks had to culti-vate
the invaded soil or forage for supplies ; he points out the significance
of sea power, in peace and in war; he says that the Peloponnesian war
was made inevitable by the growth of the Athenian power, and the fear
which this inspired in the Lacedaemon. All this sounds modem. But
Thucydides does not make up his history out of the environment—out
38 Twentieth Annual Session
of economic or any other external conditions; rather, lie goes on to tell
how Athens decided to protect the Corcyrans against the Corinthians,
and how this decision started the war ; how the Spartans massacred the
Plataeans, and how the Athenians exterminated the inhabitants of Melos,
and the moral results of those actions; and how at last through evil
choices the power of Athens was destroyed. He hoped, he said, that his
record might he prized not as a romantic chronicle of events, hut as a
storehouse of human wisdom, that it might he judged useful by those
inquirers who desire an exact knowledge of the past as an aid to the
interpretation of the future. With this purpose, he treats the Pelopon-nesian
war as a series of decisions which the combatants had to make,
and the battles and other events follow as the divine commentary on the
decisions. He introduces the account of conduct in each instance with
an elaborate report of the debate of which that conduct was the event,
and we hardly needed his hint to observe that the speeches as he gives
them were probably never made, but are his statements, rather, of the
various points of view which converged on that issue. His interpretation
of history, therefore, is neighbor to Plato's method in philosophy, a
dramatizing of moral ideas, for the better observation of their implica-tions.
Much as we may admire this high-mindedness in Thucydides, who has
been a long time dead, I confess I cannot perceive la tendency in living
historians to imitate it, nor in the rest of us to desire it of historians now
writing. Explain the fall of a great power as the moral consequence of
its decisions! A British historian might so narrate the collapse of
Grermany, but would a German historian so narrate it? Or would an
English or American historian tell the story with such a conviction of
moral responsibility, if it were Great Britain or the United States that
had come to disaster ? And if he did, what would we do to him ? But
Thucydides was an Athenian. Writing of his own city and of his own
day, he refused to remove from man the dignity of moral choices; he per-sisted
in the faith that the good and the bad of life are not causes, but
rather things to choose between. The extremes of Aristotelian temper-ance,
the earthly and the heavenly steeds in Plato's vision, were to come
under the control of intelligence. Because of this locating of fate in
human conduct, this enshrining of the god in the heart of mian, the Greek
philosophy once seemed humane, and the monuments of the Greek spirit
were called the humanities. We have kept the word but have somewhat
lost the old meaning. The humane person was one who understood his
responsibility for his own moral career; with us the hum'ane person is
one who by his benefactions becomes as it were the moral system of his
neighbor. Our kind of humaneness Herodotus noticed from time to
State Literary and Historical Association 39
time in the character of a Persian tyrant, but we must search long for
it in portrait of a Greek, who thought it a greater (benefit to increase
the freedom of a man's moral choice than to protect him from the choice
altogether. Says Pericles:
"The freedom which we enjoy in our government extends also to our
ordinary life. There, far from exercising a jesilous surveillance over
each other, we do not feel called upon to be angry with our neighbor for
doing what he likes. Yet we obey the laws, not only the written, but
also those which, though unwritten, cannot be broken without dishonor."
'Noi all the hearers of Pericles understood his high philosophy, of
that we may be sure. Doubtless many of those dead whom his oration
immortalized had fought for their portion of Attic soil instinctively,
with a quite simple clinging to their hearth, and with no more complex
patriotism. When the Peloponnesians began to invade the country, it
was by the advice of Pericles that the country folk had removed to the
city their wives land children, their household furniture, even in
some cases the woodwork of their houses. Thucydides says they found it
hard to move, since most of them had always lived in the country. They
were pagans in the old and profound sense, rooted to the earth by
immemorial pieties; the soil they worked in was one with the dust of
their fathers. They were mindful too, of a legendary independence, of
the self-«ufficient dignity of each minute village in the days before
Theseus made Athens a political center. Prom such households there
musit have been many recruits in the Athenian army who fought not
exactly because they had made an Aristotelian choice, but because it
was unthinkable not to defend the family hearth and the family tombs.
Just who the invader was, made no difference—Xerxes but yesterday,
Archidamus today. The relatives of such men, listening to Pericles,
may indeed have felt in some dim way the difference fbotween instinctive
patriotism and that vaster loyalty, moral and to their minds impersonal,
of which the political orator spoke; but they probably preferred the
loyalty of instinct.
It is just because the audience may not have agreed with Pericles in
his immortal oration that we may turn to it now for light. On what
subject did they disagree? We are often reminded nowadays that
Pericles was seizing a dramatic occasion to glorify Athens and the cause
of which he was the leader. On what ground did he glorify Athens ? He
representejd it as a state for which the citizen was morally responsible
;
and if some of his hearers disiagreed, it was because they doubted their
share in this responsibility, or in their hearts may have declined to
accept it. The grandeur of the oration is in the attempt to dedicate a
whole people to a moral instead of an instinctive philosophy—grandeur
40 TwEi^TiETH Annual Session
no whit lessened by the reluctance of the people to be so dedicated. The
entire ceremony of which the oration was a part, had for its purpose to
enlarge the tribal loyalty to the dimensions of a national ideal, and
gently to bring away the ancestral religion from merely local shrines,
and attach it to a place of common and intertribal memories. In the
funeral procession, says Thucydides^ cypress coffins were borne in
cars, one for each tribe, the bones of the dead being placed in the coffin
of their tribe. So much concession at least, to a natural and instinctive
patriotism. Among these coffins was carried one empty bier, decked
for the missing—that is, for those whose bodies could not be recovered.
Finally, the dead were laid, not in their ancestral burying grounds,
in the ancient villages they had perished to defend, but in the public
sepulchre, in the subur*b of the city called Beautiful, where they who
fell in war were always buried, with the exception of those slain at
Marathon, w'ho for their extraordinary valor were interred on the spot
where they fell. It was over the new graves in the military cemetery
that Pericles spoke, before mourning relatives who perhaps would have
preferred to bury the dead sons or husbands nearer their ancestors
—
as some of us, with the same instinct, would bring them home from
France; so much more comforting is it, in spite of all we profess as to
matter and spirit, that they should be covered with familiar dust than
that they should rest in an idea.
Before such hearers Pericles made his great plea for intelligent patri-otism
:
"What was the path by which we reached our eminence?" [he asked.]
"What was the form of government under which we became great? Out of
what national habits did our greatness spring?"
Our institutions are free, he continued ; advancement in public life goes
!by merit, and liberty in private life is without lawlessness. "We have
leisure for the mind, and we welcome the stranger within the city. But
most of all we are morally responsible, and we cultivate reason. We
place the disgrace of poverty not in owning to the fact but in declining
to struggle against it. Instead of regarding discussion as a hindrance
to action, we think it an indispensible preliminary to any wise action
at all. In our enterprises we both dare and deliberate, and we give the
palm of courage to those who best know the difference between hardship
and pleasure, and yet are never tempted to shrink from danger.
"The Athens I have praised," [he concludes,] "is only what these men and
their like have made her. For this offering of their lives, made in common
by them all, they have each received that renown which never grows old
(1) The following passages are paraphrased and adapted from the translation by Crawley,
State Litekary and Historical Association 41
and for a sepulchre, not so much that in which their bones are placed, but
that noblest of shrines wherein their glory is laid up to be eternally
remembered. For the grave of great men is the whole world. In lands far
from their own, far from the funeral shaft and the epitaph, there is also
a wider record of them, written in the human heart."
Those hearers who were reluctant to leave their dead in the national
cemetery musit have known that the last great phrases were directed
particularly at them. They prohably felt that Pericles was going quite
too far when he threw ovenboard altogether the genius of locality, and
said that the grave of great men is the whole world. But they had one
tradition even in their tribal pieties, w^hich may have helped them to
understiand better than we do his doctrine of moral responsibility in
patriotism. They may not have followed him in the argument that
man's concern is with the moral world ; that he must take sides in moral
questions; that the crisis of the state is simply his problem in morality
on its largest scale; that the state is his creation, his poetry, the last
incarnation of his ideal life, which should sum up all his other arts. But
every one of them, of whatever tribe, would recall in his own history
the legend of those who had founded states—Theseus and Solon, and
innumerable other heroes from mythical time. Some of the states
founded turned out well, he would recall; others were bad. In either
case the legend explained the result Iby the icharacter of the founder.
He would think of these pioneers as we think of the pilgrim fathers,
for whom the creation of government was not an end ; but the Greek who
listened to Pericles would also feel, as we sometimes do not, even when
we think of the pilgrim fathers, that no state is estaiblished once for
all, that no settlers are the exclusive pioneers, that no citizen, therefore,
IS excused from exercising the duty and the rigfht to found the state again
in his own moral choices. Athens had learned «arly to condemn all
neutrals in public affairs. Plutarch reminds us of Solon's law that
whenever a rebellion or sedition occurred, those who had not taken a
definite stand on one side or the other should be disfranchised. With
these principles in mind, the philosophers taught that all education
should have for its end intelligent and moral citizenship, and that
the difference between tyranny and democracy is that the tyrant has the
moral responsibility for the state which he alone creates, whereas in a
democracy all the citizens share the continuous founding, and all are
responsifble for it. The Athenians from the outer villages may have
been restive under the far-reaching phrases of Pericles, but if they
reflected at length on the doctrine, they would recall that the heroes of
their antiquity had practised that virtue for Which the great statesman
was now speaking.
42 Twentieth Annual Session
III
The wish to dedicate Athenian patriotism to a moral career, to raise
it up to the region of ideas, in which conscious responsibility is pos-sible,
is found in other Greeks than Pericles—in Socrates, in Plato, in
Aristotle, and in the orators ; and if our modern interpretations are not
altogether mistaken, it is the inspiration of most of the dramas
Euripides composed. If we look at life fairly, with due allowance for
all its difficulties and for the immense pressure in the daily routine
that holds us, by a spiritual gravitation, to leaden-footed contact with
familiar paths, it is not surprising that none of these prophets was per-manently
listened to, or that Socrates and Euripides, the most out-spoken,
were condemned by public opinion. A similar fate has attended
others in later centuries, who with the same loftiness of spirit tried to
translate into terms of reason the passion for their city or for their
land. Dante hoped so to consecrate loyalty to Elorence and loyalty to
Rome. He dreamt of a two-fold city of God and earth, the Church and
the Empire, both implanted by divine love in the midstream of history,
that through both at once man might enjoy here the moral career with-out
which no soul can be disciplined for heaven. That he wrote of
monarchy and thought in terms of the empire is of little consequence in
comparison with the fact that his ideal state was to be a moral oppor-tunity,
and that in his definitions of it he lays down a program for
intelligence. Others might love their native Florence for other reasons,
or with very differennt purposes might speculate as to the reform of
church and state, but this is the old and rare philosophy—how familiar
in the periods Thucydides and of Aristotle ; how very unfamiliar still in
the actual patriotisms history records ! In politics as in science, he
begins^ we must do for posterity what our ancestors did for us; we
must be ourselves in turn ancestors. For simply to be loyal to the past
is to bring the past to an end, as the talent was buried in the napkin. We
do not value a tree for last season's fruit. What fruit would you bear by
demonstrating once more some theorem of Euclid ? Who, after Aristotle,
need expound the nature of felicity? Or who, after Oicero, need under-take
the apology of old age?
He continues by expounding his new fruits in very old terms, yet
they keep forever a kind of novelty, since the race has but seldom at-tended
to them, least of all, perhaps, in the very tiraes and places where
they have been learned by rote. The poet was aware that his contempo-raries
would in one way recognize the Aristotelian echoes, but in quite
^De Monarchia, paraphrased and adapted from Wickstead's translation.
State Literary and Historical Association 43
another sense lie hoped that these great definitions, these essential
manoeuvres of the mind, might come like revelation to men sunk in
passions and instincts. There are some things, he pro'ceeds, in no degree
sulbject to our power; they are for our thoug'ht and contemiplation.
Other things, hov^ever, are subject to our power; we can think about
them and do them. In the case of these, which compose the world of
our moral responsibility, the doing is not undertaken for the sake of
thinking, but the thinking for the sake of doing. The whole field of
politics is eminently a part of this moral world, in which intelligence
should precede conduct. For (passing over the special arguments for
monarchy) the human race is best disposed when most free. This will be
clear if the principle of freedom be understood. The first principle of
freedom is freedom of choice, which many have on their lips but few
in their understanding. They get as far as saying that free choice is
free judgment in matters of will; and herein they say the truth, but
the import of the words is far from them. What is judgment?
Judgment is the link between apprehension and appetite. For first
a thing is apprehended, then when apprehended it is judged to be good
or bad, and finally he who has so judged it pursues or shuns it.
With this simple capitulation of old principles Daoite emibarks on
his demonstration of God's will as to the empire and the church. By
the same principles in his great poem he judges the politicians of
Florence, friend and foe, and assigns to them with fervent rigor their
place in hell or purgatory, and by the same principles he judges his own
failure to deserve the salutation of Bciatrice. One who has moved in the
true order of reason, in which judgment controls appetite or instinct,
and who yet condesicends to a lower order, in which appetite or instinct
controls judgment, has abdicated his high station, a little lower than the
angels, and has joined the belasts. For he has isurrendered his freedom,
as the patriot surrenders liberty w*hen his patriotism becomes only in-stinctive.
If the judgment is moved by the appetite, which to some
extent anticipates it, it cannot be free, for it does not move of itself, but
is drawn captive by another. And hence it is that 'brutes cannot have
free judgment, because their judgments are always anticipated by
appetite.
If we may speak of appetite and instincts interchangeably, then these
axioms and definitions allow no room among the virtues for that kind of
loyalty to city or state which is instinctive. The natural love for one's
birthplace or for one's habitiat is a force which jud'gment or reason
should guide ; it cannot be an ideal in itself. It is for this doctrine of
freedom that Dante stands in the race memory with Pericles and the few
other great statesmen who have seen the moral aspect of patriotism. If
44 Twentieth Annual Session
you protest tliat Dante used his axioms and definitions as a base on which
to set up a defence of monarchy, I reply that Milton, la patriot of an
equally reasoned morality, used much the same axioms and definitions
to defend the idea of popular government; in either case, the political
program they chose is far less important than the fact that the choice
was rational. If you olbject again that such diversity of result is in-convenient
or deplorable, and that a kind of patriotism which permits
diametrically opposed conclusions cannot be sound, I must reply that
this criticism can be brought against any system of morality which
sipecifies freedom of judgment as one of its principles. The desire for
unanimity is a deep-rooted instinct, which leads speedily to confusion
wherever two or three are gathered together, for unless the ideal of free
judgment tempers somewhat the demand for harmony, our instincts
persuade us that those who disagree with us are evil. If you allow as
much , so far as the individual is concerned, yet believe that the general
good is best served when the citizens do not distract each other by vari-ous
ideals, however rational, of the state they yield allegiance to, but
simply and with single devotion love that state as it is, I reply that such
a program of instinctive patriotism would produce harmony in the
United States, in Great Britain and in Japan, let us say, and war among
all three. The grace to understand and to sympathize with the stranger
within or without our gates comes not by instinct but by the discipline
of reason. It was a mistake for Dante to argue for unity of decision in
the moral world; he then had to argue for one empire and only one.
Milton, likewise, had he pressed his political applications far enough,
would perhaps have deserted the principle of moral liberty and reached
a Puritan intolerance. Pericles in the midst of his great vision was
pleading for Athenian supremacy. This is to say that aill three were to
some extent caught in a natural instinct. But to all of them it would
have seemed intelligent to use Wordsworth's image of the nobler alle-giance
; he felt for England, he said, as the mother for her child. The
love of the mother for her child, not the love of the child for its mother.
If our country is only our mother, we owe it reverence and gratitude, but
it is too late to control its career. If it is our child, however, we are
responsible for it.
IV
I offer ancient examples of a constant problem. In a world shared by
both instinct and reason, the wise man will desire both in their strength
even though it is hard to reconcile them. The stronger the instinct, the
harder to control it ; the instinct which begets love in us for our country
will sooner or later, if uncontrolled, beget hate in us for other countries
;
State Literary and Historical Association 45
yet if tihe instinct is not strong, what energy is there to control ? In the
United States we have become detached from the soil; we have moved
ahout from place to place, we have almost forgotten, some of us, what
the household hearth looks like; no wonder that the instinctive loyalty
which defends particular places and neighborhoods has seemed to fail
within us; no wonder that we have tried to fan it into new flame. I
believe we shall succeed in rousing such fervent gratitude in the average
American heart for the fact that he is an Ameri<3an. and such unquestion-ing
devotion to the land as it is, that unless we quickly bring our impulses
under the control of moral judgment, we may become a menace to the
earth. That way to madness is easier than we may think. To follow
such a course is not only to withdraw within our appetite, as Dante would
say, but it is also to leave the weapons of reason entirely in the hands
of the crank, the agitator, and the radical, who whatever else may be
their ignorance, understand the force of the old doctrine, that who most
avail themselves of reason shall have the greatest power. The ideal state
which the radical portrays seems to some of us an abomination. It has,
however, the one great virtue of being an ideal, for which the agitator
not infrequently goes to jail. We meet his ideals chiefly with our in-stincts.
It is a natural instinct to build the jail and put him in it. But
is there no ideal America to oppose to his, no ideal more soundly im-agined,
which reason might successfully urge upon him? Are we less
than he the children of Plato, dreamers of ideal states and builders of
just republics? If that is true, if we have surrendered to others the
exclusive use of rational processes, then for us the monuments of liter-ture
and history have lost their meaning; the ages have stored up wis-dom
in vain.
But not in vain, we believe. The country our fathers bequeathed to us
is too precious to be interred in any of our instincts, not even in the
noblest. Too miany dreams have voyaged to our shores for us to let go
the habit of vision. And the 'patriotism which still dreams, has in it
promise of the highest morality. We shall be as a iguard set about the
established city. We shall earn the right also to say with the Athenian
envoys thousands of years ago, "We risked all for a city that existed only
in hope..''
William Richardson Davie and Federalism
By H. M. Wagstaff
University of North Carolina
Just a round century ago William Ricliardson Davie died upon his
estate in South Ca'rolina. It is fitting that the Literary and Historical
Society of lN"orth Carolina, the state to which he gave his greatest
service and which has every right to claim him as her own, should at this
time assess the value of his contribution to her life.
Da'vie was born, 1756, in Egremont, Cumberlandshire, England. At
seven years of age he was brought to South Carolina and adopted by his
maternal uncle, William Richardson, a Presbyterian minister who owned
an estate in the Waxhaw settlement on the Catawba. His preliminary
education was at the hands of his uncle, then a period at Queen's Acad-emy,
Charlotte, ISTorth Carolina. He then entered ITassau Hall, Prince-ton,
and received his arts degree at the hands of Dr. John Witherspoon
in 1776, having employed his preceding vacation as a volunteer in the
American army in its unsuccessful defense of l^ew York against the
British. With this youthful taste of military service, and upon the
death of his uncle almost coincident with his graduation, Davie returned
to South Ca'rolina and almost immediately thereafter entered upon the
study of law at Salisbury in !N"orth Carolina. In the following year
he interrupted his studies to join a' military force under General Allen
Jones which was moving southward to aid in the defense of Charleston.
In 1779 he became lieutenant of dragoons raised in the Salisbury Dis-trict,
was attached to Pulaski's Legion, and integrated with General
Lincoln's army of the South. In the fighting about Charleston he was
severely wounded. During his tedious recovery he resumed his law
studies at Salisbury and received his license in the spring of 1780. The
rising tide of British success in the state to the south called him again
to arms in the same year. He was now in continuous service to the
close of the war and emerged from the conflict with a reputation for
military skill and daring second to no partisan leader in the South.
After peace Colonel Davie married Sarah Jones, of Halifax, eldest
daughter of General Allen Jones, his old military commander. He
settled in Halifax for the practice of law and swiftly made a high place
for himself in his chosen profession.
Davie's political activities form an intimate chapter of the state's his-tory
for the next twenty years. His political views, however, would
State Literary and Historical Association 47
liave scant meaning to present time unless projected upon the back-ground
of our early republican era. The ISTorth Carolina of the first
two decades after the Revolution held in solution the elements which,
though slow in precipitation, were ultimately to shape her present
character. Social democracy was more nearly a reality in IN^orth Caro-lina
than in either her neighbor to the north or to the south. This
had been dictated by economic conditions less sharply marking the
rich from the poor. State individualism, infused with the spirit of
democracy, w^as the primary characteristic with which the state had
emerged from the struggle for independence. This characteristic as
a force now found political expression in a studied disregard of obliga-tions
to the Confederation government, in continued harrying of Tories,
in new issues of paper money, in the prolongation of vicious ^^stay laws,"
a7id in extreme decentralization of state authority. It represented the
tentative groping of the democratic spirit unchastened by experience.
The theory of the French Revolution was already born in America be-fore
1789.
It has always seemed to me that the American Revolution was pro-duced
by two distinct sets of forces, emanating from two different groups
of men. Of the first were the reasoned out opinion of intelligent and
educated Americans that they were the equals of Englishmen at home,
equal in all their rights and in all their capacities for self-government.
They were humiliated that England sent officials to America instead of
choosing officials in America. It was natural that these sensitive and
high-spirited colonial-Englishmen should capitalize the blunders of
George Ill's place-men. The other set of forces w^as born of the mass
and was the product of frontier environment acting upon a naturally
independent and individualistic race. It may be summed up as the
spirit of democracy, a thing impatient of restraints, even of those laid
by itself. Ultimately this spirit was to more sharply characterize Amer-ica
in contrast to Europe than even its devotion to the theory of self-government.
This influence affected the mass mind and therefore the larger group
of Americans. Davie and most of the educated men in JSTorth Caro-lina,
as indeed in America, belonged to the first group. Inde-pendence
being won they were now more interested in an orderly re-construction
of the political and economic edifice than in a politico-social
rebirth of the country. This was an immediate and pressing
need if the fruits of victory were to be enjoyed. N^ot only was there
imperative demand for practical attention to after-the-war weaknesses
48 Twentieth Annual Session
of the individual state, but to the bond of union between the states,
which indeed had proved barely strong enough to carry them through
their common danger.
Hence to informed and practical men like Davie first attention after
the Revolution was due to the wounds made by the war; then to put-ting
the new state government in harmony with sound political prac-tice—
practice approved by sound political precedent; and, thirdly, to
strengthening the bond between the states.
But the state had emerged from the Revolution under the control of
the popular or democratic party, the party swayed by popular passion
and inclined to illustrate sharp contrasts with the past. At the same
time this party was characterized by an intense consciousness of the
state's individual sovereignty and an extreme disinterest in the common
government, the Confederacy. This somewhat blatant democracy em-bodied
in its membership most of the soldiers of the Revolution, many
of their officers, the bulk of the state officials, and the mass of what
Archibald Maclaine was fond of calling "the common people."
On the other hand the conservatives made up so small a minority
that they may best be described as a coterie of educated men, mainly
lawyers, who were well fitted for leadership and likely to acquire in-fluence
and power as soon as the passions of the recent conflict began
to cool. Among the best known names in this group were Samuel
Johnston, Benjamin Hawkins, Richard Dobbs Spaight, James Iredell,
Archibald Maclaine, John Steele, and William R. Davie. But in the
years immediately succeeding independence they were able only to exer-cise
a moderating and restraining influence in state affairs. Most of
them found places in the legislature and there, by sheer virtue of talent,
often turned the majority aside from ultra-radical action. Their oppor-tunity
for control, however, was continually delayed. It promised to
appear when, in 1786, it was proposed to strengthen the union by amend-ing
the articles of Confederation. This proposal found ready acceptance
by them in that they had consistently held that the welfare of JSTorth
Carolina was indissolubly linked with her sister states. It would, if
achieved, bring about national and international respectability, a re-sult
that indeioendence did not alone assure. Moreover it would doubt-less
correct various evils from which the country at large or the states
individually suffered. Lastly, to the conservative, the movement seemed
to promise an opportunity for public service and public honors, in state
and nation, to those who advanced it.
Interested alike in all these results the conservatives threw them-selves
with zeal and skill into the work of creating sentiment for amend-
State Literaky and Historical Association 49
ment of the articles. Davie, who liad enjoyed a continuous service in
the lower house as borough member from Halifax, had insisted upon
and procured the appointment of delegates to the Anniapolis Conven-tion
in 1786. In 1787 he was equally insistent upon a commission to
Philadelphia. This the majority granted, though apparently out of def-erence
to the invitation and the urging of the conservatives. The pre-amble
of the act of appointment embodied the sentiments of the con-servatives
and bore the unmistakable stamp of Davie.
ISTevertheless three of the commission, as elected, were of the domi-nant
democracy, Willie Jones, the unrivaled leader of his 'party, among
them,. Jones was a .particularist of extreme type, who, long in control
of the majority party, had confirmed it in tihe view that North Carolina
was its chief and practically only concern. Though he did not oppose
sending delegates to Philadelphia, -political consisteinicy bade him refuse
the appointment. Kichard Caswell, the governor, burdened with heavy
responsibilities at home, also declined, and being empowered by law
to fill the vacancies, named two friends of the movement, in which his
own sympathies were strongly enlisted. Hence the delegation as finally
made up consisted of one democrat, Alexander Martin, and four con-servatives,
William E. Davie, Richard Spaight, Hugh Williamson, and
William Blount.
Of Davie's activity in the Philadelphia Convention we have, of course,
no complete record, but sufficient to show that his weight was thrown
on the side of the large state-group which proposed that representation
in the national legislature should be on the basis of population instead
of an equality among the states. Nevertheless he came to indorse the
compromise of equality in the senate and proportional representation
in the house. Further, he strongly opposed counting out the slave pop-ulation
of the South in making up federal numbers, and finally put
the convention on notice that the South would not federate unless at
Idast three-fifths of the slaves were counted.
Davie returned to North Carolina to meet pressing engagements just
before the convention adjourned. Nevertheless he lost no time in mar-shaling
the sentiment of the other North Carolina conservatives for
the new document. These now became an active working conps for its
adofption, while the democrats looked on interested but questioning.
Even before the convention at Philadelphia had finished its labors
the most far-sighted of the conservatives began to plan the election of
\a state governor in harmony with their views on the matter of ratifica-tion.
They now began to call themselves federal men, and soon there-
4
50 Twentieth Annual Session
after, Tederalists. By assiduous correspondence and personal exertions
practical organization was effected, tlie old conservatives to a man rally-ing
to tlie new and fortunate issue. Control of t!he legislarbure must
be tlie first objective, since tbe legislature elected the governor, and
would be called upon to grant a state convention to pass upon the new
constitution. Every 'prominent conser^^ative in the state became a can-didate
for one or the other branches of the legislature. Intense interest
was awakened as the fight became fast and furious, and much bitterness
was engendered in many localities. The federal leaders took as their
common theme the weakness of the old Confederation and, its corollary,
the need of a firmer iprinciple of union. ^Nevertheless it was clear, as
the campaign developed, that they were forcing the fighting on the new
ground as a means of gaining state supremacy, wfhile the democrats,
thrown upon the defensive, were struggling not so much to assure rejec-tion
of the constitution in advance as to maintain their control. Nov,
desipite the campaign declaration of the federal men, did democratic
victory imply that the new frame of government, when submitted,
would not be accorded due consideration.
The campaign was of considerable educative value and accentuated
interest in larger affairs than the average North Carolinian had been
wont to concern himself. Though the federalists had made a notable
effort, and had attracted numerous recruits to their ranks, they failed
to wrest control from the party in power. The democrats were easily
able to organize both branches of the assembly when the body convened.
Archibald Maclaine, beaten in 'New Hanover, had to solace himself
with the reflection that 'the asemibly contained some men of sense who
would endeavor to do what was necessary.' Davie had easily secured
his seat and appeared in the lower house as the ranking federalist
member. Just from the scene of the constitution making at Philadel-phia
he was prepared to exercise an even greater influence than usual
upon the actions of the assembly.
jN'ow occurred in the legislature a most interesting inconsistency in
political history. The democrats, after a most heated campaign, and
now in full control of both branches, for the nonce held partisanship
in abeyance, and on joint ballot chose Samuel Johnston governor de-sipite
his known opposition to the bulk of principles for which the
majority stood. The explanation lies in Johnston's character, in Davie's
political generalship, and in the nature of the questions which now
confronted the state. Johnston was perhaps the best known federalist
in ]^orth Carolina. As a most influential member in the revolutionary
Provincial Council he was a potent force in the government of ISTorth
State Litekaky and Historical Association 51
Carolina between tlie abdication of Josiah Martin, the last royal governor,
and tlie accession of Richard CasAvell under tbe state constitution. He
served the state wisely and well during this critical period and would
undoubtedly have become the first governor under the constitution had
not Caswell's military achievements suddenly brought the latter into
prominence as a desirable war-time executive. Though trusted by the
whole state for his wisdom, pro^bity, and patriotism Johnston was well
known to be far from democratic either in personal practice or political
theory. This explains his exclusion from political preferment since the
Revolution, save three years in the Congress of the Confederation.
Equally conversant with State and confederation affairs he was regarded
as the man of ripest mind in the State. The democracy, confronted now
with the necessity, even against its will, of fixing attention on Confedera-tion
affairs, began to have a sense of need of Johnston's wisdom.
With the executive office accorded to Johnston by grace, the demo-cratic
majority, also by grace, ordered the election of a state convention
to consider the new plan of government which had been evolved by the
Philadelphia Convention. The election of this convention aroused even
greater popular interest than had that of the preceding assembly. Davie
and James Iredell led the federalistic forces, the former clearly demon-strating
the fact that he was the most eloquent constitutional advocate
in the State. Together the two, at their own expense, issued a pamphlet
in analysis of the constitution that takes rank with the ablest of the
"Federalist Piapers" of Madison, Jay, and Hamilton.
The election of convention delegates resulted in the choice of the ablest
men of both parties, this being made possible by the fact of the old
English practice that any freeholder might he chosen by any county or
borough town whether he was a resident of the same or of some other.
Too, there was an appreciation of ability and character very generally
prevalent in N^orth Carolina during the first four decades after inde-pendence,
that made it possible and not infrequent for a constituency
to confer public honors out of deference to those qualities, even though
the recipient's political views may not have accorded with those of the
electors so honoring him.
When the balloting had closed it was soon ascertained that the federal-ists
had secured only a respectable minority of the seats in the conven-tion.
ISTevertheless their leaders continued to hope that when the body
met it v/ould ratify. In this they relied upon the weight of the ten
states that had already ratified. This was one more than was sufficient
to secure the new union and the abandonment of the old Confederation.
And among the ten was Virginia, whose influence was especially potent
52 Twentieth Annual Session
in the Koanoke and Albemarle regions of J^ortli Carolina, regions whicli
at that time were the most populons, the wealthiest, and therefore the
most influential portion of the state, Davie wrote from Halifax in
June : "The decision of Virginia has altered the tone of the Antis here
very much." But, he further states: "Mr. Jones says his object will
now be to get the constitution rejected in order to give weight to the
proposed amendments, and talks in high commendation of those made
by Virginia."
When the convention met, July 21, Jones proved to be firm in this
purpose. He had kept his party's front quite unbroken, and so adroit
was his one-man-leadership that he was in position to absolutely dictate
the action of the convention. I^^evertheless Governor Johnson, out of
deference to his office and public character, was chosen by unanimous
vote to preside. Davie and James Iredell bore the chief responsibility
for advocacy of ratification. There was not a peer of either of them
in the opposition camp. Virtual admission of this by the democrats
was shown in their declination to enter into debate. They were content
to leave the issue to the test of ballots rather than arguments. Thus for
some days the federalist leaders stood forth to analyze the constitution,
to show the benefits to accrue from its operation, iand to point out the
ills of the old order. Sensing the chief ground oi fear of the democrats
to be an over-strong central authority Davie continually emphasized
the point that the new constitution was, in nature, a comipact between
the states, and the government to be set up under it, their agent. Spaight
also reiterated this view. I^or does their theory seem to have been as-sumed
to lull the susipicions of the opposition. Both had been members
of the Philadelphia Convention and ipresumably knew the spirit in which
the document was drawn.
N'on-adoption, however, was predetermined. Jones finally embodied
^his decision in a resolution which likewise asserted the necessity for a
bill of rights and suggested the call of a second federal com^ention.
To the resolution was appended a declaration of rights similar to that
in

jx/r-rnn ryo, zfs
PROCEEDINGS
OF THE
Twentieth and Twenty-First
Annual Sessions
OF THE
State Literary and Historical Association
of North Carolina
RALEIGH
DECEMBER 2-3, 1920
DECEMBER 1-2, 1921
Compiled by
R. B. HOUSE, Secretary
J ) J
) » o
3 t 3 5 Tit
•> > 3 3
RALEIGH
Edwaeds & Broughton Printing Company
State Printers
1922
The North Carolina Historical Commission
J. Bbyan Grimes, Chairman, Raleigh
D. H. Hill, Raleigh T. M. Pittman, Henderson
M. C. S. Noble, Chapel Hill Frank Wood, Edenton
D. H. Hill, Secretary, Raleigh.
Officers of the State Literary and Historical Association
1919-1920
President J. G. deR. Hamilton, Chapel Hill.
First Vice-President Mrs. S. Westray Battle, Asheville.
Second Vice-President T. T. Hicks, Henderson.
Third Vice-President Mrs. M. K. Myers, Washington.
Secretary-Treasurer R. D. W. Connor, Raleigh.
Executive Committee
(With above named officers)
W. K. Boyd, Durham. W. C. Smith, Greensboro.
Mrs. H. G. Cooper, Oxford. F. B. McDowell, Charlotte.
Marshall DeL. Haywood, Raleigh.
1920-1921
President D. H. Hill, Raleigh.
First Vice-President Mrs. H. A. London, Pittsboro.
Second Vice-President C. C. Pearson, Wake Forest.
Third Vice-President Miss Gertrude Weil, Goldsboro.
Secretary-Treasurer R. B. House, Raleigh.
Executive Committee
(With above named officers)
W. W. Pierson, Chapel Hill. W. H. Glasson, Durham.
A. B. Andrews, Raleigh. Josephus Daniels, Raleigh.
Burton Craige, Winston-Salem. R. D. W. Connor, Chapel Hill.
Officers For 1921-1922
President W. K. Boyd, Durham.
First Vice-President S. A. Ashe, Raleigh.
Second Vice-President Mrs. D. H. Blair, Greensboro.
Third Vice-President John Jordan Douglas, Wadesboro.
Secretary-Treasurer R. B. House, Raleigh.
Executive Committee
(With above named officers)
W. C. Jackson, Greensboro. D. H. Hill, Raleigh.
J. G. deR. Hamilton, Chapel Hill. Clarence Poe, Raleigh.
C. C. Pearson, Wake Forest.
PURPOSES OF THE STATE LITERARY AND HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION
"The collection, preservation, production, and dissemination of State litera-ture
and history;
"The encouragement of puhlic and school libraries;
"The establishment of an historical museum;
"The inculcation of a literary spirit among our people;
"The correction of printed misrepresentations concerning North Carolina;
and,
"The engendering of an intelligent, healthy State pride in the rising
generations."
ELIGIBILITY TO MEMBERSHIP—MEMBERSHIP DUES
All persons interested in its purposes are invited to become members of
the Association. There are two classes of members: "Regular Members,"
paying one dollar a year, and "Sustaining Members," paying five dollars
a year.
RECORD OF THE STATE LITERARY AND HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION
(Organized October, 1900)
Fiscal Paid-v
Years Presidents Secretaries Mem'beri
1900-1901 Walter Clark Alex. J. Feild ... 150
1901-1902 Henry G. Connor . . . . Alex. J. Feild 139
190M903 W. L. Poa:teAT .... George S. Fraps 73
1903-1904 C. Alphonso Smith -. . . . Clarence Poe . . . 127
1904-1905 Robert W. Winston Clarence Poe . . . 109
1905-1906 Charles B. Aycock . . .
.
Clarence Poe . . . 185
1906-1907 W. D. Pruden . . . . Clarence Poe 301
1907-1908 Robert Bingham Clarence Poe . . . 273
1908-1909 Junius Davis . , . . Clarence Poe . . . 311
1909-1910 Platt D. Walker . . . . Clarence Poe . . . 440
1910-1911 Edward K. Graham Clarence Poe 425
1911-1912 R. D. W. Connor . . . . Clarence Poe 479
1912.1913 W. P. Few R. D. W. Connor . . . 476
1913-1914 Archibald Henderson R. D. W. Connor , . . 435
1914-1915 Clarence Poe R. D. W. Connor . . . 412
1915-1916 Howard E. Rondthaler. .
.
R. D. W. Connor , . . 501
1916-1917 H. a. London R. D. W. Connor 521
1917-1918 Jambs Sprunt R. D. W. Connor . . 453
1918-1919 James Sprunt R. IX W. Connor . . 377
1919-1920 J. G. deR. Hamilton .... R. D. W. Connor .. 493
1920-1921 D. H. Hill R. B. House .. 430
1921-1922 W. K. Boyd R. B. House
THE PATTERSON MEMORIAL CUP
The Conditions of Award Officially Set" Forth by Mrs. Patterson
To the President and Executive Committee of the Literary and Historical
Association of North Carolina:
As a memorial to my father, and. with a view to stimulating effort among
the writers of North Carolina, and to awaken among the people of the State
an interest in their own literature, I desire to present to your Society a
loving cup upon the following stipulations, which I trust will meet with
your approval, and will be found to be just and practicable:
1. The cup will be known as the "William Houston Patterson Memorial
Cup,"
2. It will be awarded at each annual meeting of your Association for ten
successive years, beginning with October, 1905.
3. It will be given to that resident of the State who during the twelve
months from September 1st of the previous year to September 1st of the
year of the award has displayed, either in prose or poetry, without regard
to its length, the greatest excellence and the highest literary skill and
genius. The work must 'be published during the said twelve months, and no
manuscript nor any unpublished writings will be considered.
4. The name of the successful competitor will be engraved upon the cup,
with the date of award, and it will remain in his possession until October
1st of the following year, when it shall be returned to the Treasurer of the
Association, to be by him held in trust until the new award of your annual
meeting that month. It will become the permanent possession of the one
winning it ofteiiest during the ten years, provided he shall have won it
three times. Should no one, at the expiration of that period, have won it so
often, the competition shall continue until that result is reached. The names
of only those competitors who shall be living at the time of the fim.l award
shall be considered in the permanent disposition of the cup.
5. The Board of Award shall consist of the President of the Literary and
Historical Association of North Carolina, who will act as chairman, and of
the occupants of the Chairs of English Literature at the University of North
Carolina, at Davidson College, at Wake Forest College, and at the State
College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts at Raleigh, and of the Chairs of
History at the University of North Carolina and Trinity College.
6. If any of these gentlemen should decline or be unable to serve, their
successors shall be appointed by the remaining members of the Board, and
these appointees may act for the whole unexpired term or for a shorter
time, as the Board may determine. Notice of the inability of any member
to act must be given at the beginning of the year during which he declines
to serve, so that there may be a full committee during the entire term of
each year.
7. The publication of a member of the Board will be considered and passed
upon in the same mp\iner as that of any other writer.
Mrs. J. Lindsay Patterson.
SUPPLEMENTARY RESOLUTION
According to a resolution adopted at the 1908 session of the Literary and
Historical Association, it is also provided that no author desiring to have
his work considered in connection with the award of the cup shall com-municate
with any member of the committee, either personally or through
a representative. Books or other publications to be considered, together with
any communications regarding them, must be sent to the Secretary of the
Association and by him presented to the chairman of the committee for
consideration.
AWARDS OP THE PATTERSON MEMORIAL CUP
1905
John Chables McNeill, for poems later reprinted in book form as
"Songs, Merry and Sad."
1906—Edwin Mims, for "Life of Sidney Lanier."
1907
Kemp Plummeb Battle, for "History of the University of North
Carolina."
1908
^^Samuel A'Court Ashe, for "History of North Carolina."
1909
—
Clarence Poe, for "A Southerner in Europe."
1910—R. D. W. Connor, for "Cornelius Harnett: An Essay in North Caro-lina
History."
1911
Archibald Henderson, for "George Bernard Shaw: His Life and
Works."
1912—Clarence Poe, for "Where Half the World is Waking Up."
1913
Horace Kephart, for "Our Southern Highlanders."
1914—J. €r. deR. Hamilton, for "Reconstruction in North Carolina,"
1915
William Louis Poteat, for "The New Peace."
1916—No award.
1917
Mrs. Olive Tllford Dar«an, for "The Cycle's Rim."
1^18—No Award.
1919—No Award.
1920
Miss Winifred Kirkland, for "The New Death."
1921—No Award.
WHAT THE ASSOCIATION HAS ACCOMPLISHED FOR THE STATE-SUCCESSFUL
MOVEMENTS INAUGURATED BY IT
1. Rural libraries.
2. "North Carolina Day" in the schools.
3. The North Carolina Historical Commission.
4. Vance statue in Statuary Hall.
5. Fire-proof State Library Building and Hall of Records.
6. Civil War battle-fields marked to show North Carolina's record.
7. North Carolina's war record defended and war claims vindicated.
8. Patterson Memorial Cup.
Contents
Page
Minutes of the Twentieth Annual Session 9
Vitality in State History. By J. G. deR. Hamilton 11
What the World Wants of the United iStates. By John
Spencer Bassett 20
Patriotism. By John Erskine 33
William Richardson Davie. By H. M. Wagstaff 46
An Eighteenth Century Circuit Rider. By Frank Nash 58
North Carolina Bibliography, 1919-1920. By Mary B. Palmer 72
Minutes of the Twenty-First Annual Session 72
Confederate Ordnance Department. By D. H. Hill 80
An Ode. By Benjamin Sledd 92
North Carolina Bibliography, 1920-1921. By Mary B. Palmer 94
The Historian and the Daily Press. By Gerald W. Johnson 97
An Old Time North Carolina Election. By Louise Irby 102
Raleigh and Roanoke. By John Jordan Douglass 112
The Bread and Butter Aspect of North Carolina. By D. D. Carroll 119
Members 1920-1921 124
I
Proceedings and Addresses of the State Literary
and Historical Association of
North Carolina
Minutes of the Twentieth Annual Session
Raleigh, December 2-3, 1920
THUKSDAY EVEIsTIN^G, December 2nd.
The twentietli annual session of the State Literary and Historical
Association of Korth Carolina was called to order in the auditorium
of the Woman's Club, Raleigh, IN". C, Thursday evening, Deceniber
2nd, 1920, at 8 :00 o'clock. President J. G. deR. Hamilton in the
chair. The session was opened with an invocation by Rev. W. W.
Peele, Pastor of Edenton Street Methodist Church, Raleigh. Dr.
Hamilton then read the president's annual address. His subject was
"Vitality in State History". He was followed by Dr. John Spencer
Bassett, Professor of History, Smith College, Northampton, Mass.,
whose subject was "What the World Wants of the United States".
At the conclusion of Dr. Bassett's paper an informal reception
was held for the members of the State Literary and Historical Asso-ciation,
the Worth Carolina Folk Lore Society, and the Worth Car-olina
Library Association, in the clufb building.
FRIDAY MORlSriWG, December 3rd.
The session was called to order in the Hall of the State Senate by
President Hamilton, at 11 o'clock. The President presented Dr.
H. M. Wagstaff of the University of Worth Carolina, who read a paper
on, "Davie and Federalism." Dr. Wagstaff was followed by Mr. Frank
Wash, Assistant Attorney General of Worth Carolina, who read a paper
entitled "An Eighteenth Century Circuit Rider". The president then
presented Miss Mary B. Palmer, Secretarj^ of the Worth Carolina
Library Commission, who read "Worth Carolina Bibliography, 1919
—
1920".
At the conclusion of the exercises Dr. D. T. Smithwick of Louis-burg,
presented the following resolution:
To the members of the State Literary and Historical Association:
I find no provision for the election of honorary members of our Asso-ciation,
and thinking there are a number of people who are eligible and
10 Twentieth Annual Session
have gained distinction, maybe native North Carolinians in other states,
whose connection with us would he of great value, I feel it would be
wise for us at this meeting to make some provisions for election of honorary
and life members.
Therefore, make this motion, that the newly elected President and
executive committee to be constituted a committee to make a report to
our next meeting, with suitable provision for election of honorary mem-bers
and the qualifications of such persons proposed for membership.
D. T. Smithwick, Louisburg, N. C.
T'lie resolution was passed. The president tlien appointed a nomi-nating
committee with, instructions to report their nominations of
officers for the succeeding year at the evening meeting. This com-mittee
was as follows : Mr. Frank ^ash, Dr. C. C. Pearson, and Dr.
J. M. McConnell.
FKIDAY EVEISril^G, December 3rd.
President Hamilton called the meeting to order at 8 :30 in the
auditorium of Meredith College. He then introduced Dr. John Ers-kine,
of Columbia University, who read an address entitled "Patriot-ism'\
At the conclusion of Dr. Erskine's paper the nominating committee
reported the following nominations, which were unanimously carried
:
President, D. H. Hill, Raleigh; First Vice-President, Mrs. H. A. Lon-don,
Pitts'boro; Second Vice-President, C. C. Pearson, Wake Forest;
Third Vice President, Miss Gertrude Weil, Goldsboro ; Secretary Treas-urer,
R. B. House, Raleigh.
The Association then adjourned sine die.
ADDRESSES
Vitality in State History ^
By J. G. deR. Hamilton
President State Literary and Historical Association
Almost from the time that conscious historical study began there
has been argument as to the nature, value, and content of history
which has not yet resulted in any agreement universally accepted. It
still means to many people one or another of a large number of things,
many of which it is not. Doubtless there are many persons present
who can recall a time when the name denoted nothing save a dreary cata-logue
of wars and battles, of dynasties and administrations, of isolated
and perfectly insulated names and dates. To one who has never reached
conceptions of history more advanced than this, my subject could have
little or no meaning, for if that be the only content of history, truly
there is no vitality in it.
Of great interest and intensity has been the discussion on the sub-ject
of the purpose and value of history. Opinions have ranged from
that which has held it a purely cultural subject, full of scholarly
detachment from the supposedly tainting touch of anything practical
and useful, but replete from interest to many individuals properly
educated up to it, all the way to the various views of a more utilitarian
character. These are many. Probably the most widespread is that the
value of history lies in its service as a guide of conduct in matters of
statecraft. Other claims made for it have been that it is calculated
to discipline the memory, stimulate the imagination, and develop the
judgment; to give training in the use of books; to furnish entertain-ment;
to set up for conscious imitation ideals of conduct and of social
service; to inculcate practical knowledge that can be turned to account
in the daily concerns of life; to illuminate other studies; to enrich
the humanity of the student, enlarge his vision, incline him to chari-table
views of his neighbors, to give him a love of truth, to make him
in general an intelligent well-disposed citizen of the world by making
him a citizen of the ages.
Another, widely prevalent for a time in the recent past, is that
history teaches) patriotism and should be written and taught with that
* The author desires to express his sense of obligation for aid received in the preparation
of this paper from the following works: James Harvey Robinson, "The New History;"
Dewey, "Reconstruction in Philosophy;" Frederic Harrison, "The Meaning of History;"
and Henry Johnson, "Teaching of History."
12 Twentieth Annual Session
end almost solely in view. Let me turn aside briefly from my subject
to remark that history made to order for^ the teaching of patriotism is
likely to bear as little relation to truth as its resulting effects
bear to essential patriotism. An outraged world has, in the greatest war
of history, repudiated and /punished the most striking example of this
sort of history teaching and this sort of patriotism. It remains for
patriotic Americans to see that we do not err in the same direction.
From the beginning of history writing to the point where a broad
conception of values in history in relation to man's environment and
daily life appeared was a slow development. In the beginning history
was held to be literature, art, poetry, which preserved the record of
certain dramatic events, chiefly the heroic actions of kings, warriors,
and statesmen. It sought to paint a picture, '^to consecrate a noble
past," rather than to guide or furnish a key to the future. But in
the eighteenth century a fresh point of view influenced historical study.
The aim was no longer so much to paint a picture as it was to solve a
problem—to explain the steps of national growth and prosperity or
their reverse. Under the influence of this ideal every factor of
national importance came to be regarded as valuable as a field for
investigation and study, and thus was ushered in the day when history
was generally held to be the story of people rather than of kings.
The same period has seen likewise the steady increase of emphasis upon
social factors other than political and religious, and the consequent
rise of the group emphasized—in some cases overemphasized—^the
economic interpretation of the development of the human race. Here,
too, received a mighty impulse that synthetic process of associating
cause and effect which transformed history from mere annals into a
connected whole.
ISTone of these views of history are as a whole true or yet untrue.
In every point of view there are clear values, but in no one of them
is the whole truth found. Take for instance the cultural aspect of
historical study. The usual view of this fits with the most selfish
view of education ever held, and has in its extreme form little truth,
for knowledge that does not connect with life and its problems, that
does not tend to give sounder notions of human and social interests,
is meaningless. Bolingbroke thus describes it
:
"An application to any study that tends neither to make us better men
and better citizens is at best but an ingenious sort of idleness ....
and the knowledge that we acquire by it is a creditable kind of ignorance,
nothing more. This creditable kind of ignorance is, in my opinion, the
whole benefit which the generality of men, even the most learned, reap
from the study of history."
State Litekaey and Historical Association 13
Still, viewed from another light, it is in individual culture, training,
and education that history yields its richest values. Bolingbroke saw
this, and continued
:
"And yet, the study of history seems to me of all others the most proper
to train us up to private and public virtues."
^or, to go to the other extreme, does the utilitarian claim lack
validity, except in so far as it claims too much. For in the last
analysis, if history is to have values for the average man, and it is
in relation to the average man or the mass of men that I discuss this
suhject, it must he practically useful and in a social sense it can be
considered important only in so far as it meets that requirement.
If the values of history be estimated rightly there is really little
or no conflict between the cultural and utilitarian views. But
what is the value of historical study and knowledge? Is an acquain-tance
with the events, men, and ideas of the past of benefit to those in
the world today ? There is little difficulty in answering these questions.
There is widespread agreement that the study of history does cultivate
the mind, develop clear thinking, and give capacity to estimate the
character of social movements and forces. It does fulfill almost every
claim made for it. Knowledge of history lifts its possessor to a
height from which, detached and aloof from the turmoil and uproar
of his immediate environment, he can comiprehend the nature of exist-ent
institutions and conditions, and can trace the forces which operate in
the life and progress of nations and of the world for good and evil.
As few other acquirements it tends to the development of wholesome
tolerance. It enables him to play a constructive, positive part in
the formation and maintenance of effective public opinion, that compel-ling
social and political force. But a widespread belief that from the
study of past events sufficient knowledge may be acquired to meet the
new problems which arise is true only as far as this : experience in the
analysis of past movements and conditions develops a capacity to analyze
similarly the movements and conditions of the present. In the words of
Lecky
:
"The same method which furnishes a key to the past forms also an
admirable discipline for the judgment of the present. He who has learnt
to understand the true character and tendencies of many succeeding ages
is not likely to go very far wrong in estimating his own."
In other words, the past does not furnish exact precedents for conduct
in meeting similar situations, because similar situations rarely or
never arisa History cannot accurately be said to repeat itself. But
14 Twentieth Annual Session
historical study has value hecause through it we may gain such a know-ledge
of the past that our conduct may he based upon, complete under-standing
of existing conditions.
As concrete examples of the value of historical study, take the cases
of Jefferson and Madison. Both were profound students of history
and both applied practically their knowledge in striking fashion and
with such success that their names are held in honor and the world
would have been a far poorer place had they been less informed on the
suJbject. Yet the conditions which they faced had never had any par-allel
in history. Their use of history lay in the capacity which it gave
them to analyze situations and conditions accurately and, while adapting
themselves to their environment, at the same time shape it for the
future. A not less significant example is that of a living American
who has won the moral leadership of tha world and a glorious immor-tality.
If there be here present any who doubt the value of historical
knowledge, let them remember that out of history have come our daily
life, our laws, our customs, our thought, our habits of mind, our beliefs,
our moral sense, our ideas of right and wrong, our hopes and aspir-ations.
Let them conceive, if it be humanly possible, of a world
from which has been swept away every vestige of what may properly be
called historical knowledge, from which was gone, not alone the know-ledge
of the great events, hut all records and the very memory of the
great movements and achievements of the past in literature, art, science,
and industry; of all customs, traditions, laws, and institutions; of
religion; of all human hopes and human beliefs. Can imagination
create a picture of greater and more hopeless confusion and woe ?
History, rightly employed, contains the alkahest of the present and
of the future.
So much for the values of history. What of its content ?
History has been defined as "All we know about everything man has
ever done, or seen, or thought, or hoped, or felt." There are many
definitions still more inclusive, as, "History is the sum' total of human
activity," or, "History in its broadest sense is everything that ever
happened. It is the past itself, whatever that is." Accepting for the
purposes of this discussion the first and narrower definition, it is
clearly an impossibility for any man to acquire knowledge of all history,
and the mass of men must be content with far less. What of all the
things that man has done, seen, thought, hoped, or felt, have values
for the average man? The dramatic? The unusual? The heroic? Or,
on the other hand, the normal? The customary? The humdrum con-
State Literary and Historical Association 15
ditions of life for the mass of men? What is the test—the acid test
—
which shall determine what is pure metal and what is mere dross ?
As I see it, vitality is the final test to be applied, and hj vitality
I mean that character in event or movement which makes it a deter-mining
factor, for good or for evil, in the shaping of the conditions,
present and future, of the generation in which one lives, which
gives sounder notions of human and social interests, which relates
man to the business of living. It is no narrow definition. It covers
a multitude of meanings. It may consist, for example, in satisfying
the natural human curiosity as to the deeper relationships of the
things ahout us, the facts of our environment, and their connection with
the past—"that power which to understand is strength, which to re-pudiate
is weakness'\ Vital events, vital movements, vital conditions,
are the only ones which are worthy of widespread study and assimilation
so far as the generality of men are concerned.
Applying this test, it will be found that the dramatic, the unusual,
and even the heroic events of the past have far less vital importance
than is usually attributed to them, while the normal conditions of life
lie at the heart of all the great movements which have shaped the past
and through it the present. And so the man who uses history rightly
values events not for their dramatic interest but for the light they
cast on the normal conditions which lay back of them and caused them.
And knowledge of these conditions is chiefly valuable for the grasp
it gives of the ways in which society functions and of their influence
upon the present. The aim is not the knowledge of the past ; knowledge
is a mere means towards the end of full living. The end of it all is
that, through a more perfect understanding of our environment, we may
develop sounder notions of human and social interests and the capacity
to "cooperate with the vital principle of betterment," both in enriching
our environment and adapting ourselves to its necessities, in order
that we may grow. For, here as elsewhere, growth is the moral end.
The value of the past lies not in itself but in our todays and tomorrows.
Thus those things which touch directly the life of the world of today
or of the future and which may bring or retard growth are vital
to us.
John Richard Green saw this, and in his "Short History of the
English People" said:
"If I have said little of the glories of Cressy, it is because I have dwelt
much on the wrongs and misery which prompted the verse of Langland
and the preaching of Ball. ... I have set Shakespere among the
heroes of the Elizabethan age and placed the scientific inquiries of the
16 Twentieth Annual Session
Royal Society side by side with the victories of the New Model. If some of
the conventional figures of military and political history occupy in my pages
less than the space usually given them, it is because I have had to find
a place for figures little heeded in common history . . . the figures of
the missionary, the poet, the painter, the merchant, or the philosopher."
If these conclusions are true, as I earnestly believe they are, it
is clearly apparent that there has been a vast waste of time and energy
in the effort to instil historical knowledge into the minds of the mass
of men. Anyone who is familiar with history as it is generally written
and taught will bear me out in the statem^ent that it has too often
emphasized the unusual at the expense of the normal; that it has
been long on events and short on movements; that it has, more often
than not, lacked any clear distinction between the vital and the
meaningless; that it has not given the student the type of training
and knowledge which he can apply to the problems which he must con-front.
In short, we have been too often content to attempt to give in-formation
and have not sought to stimulate the development of real
knowledge capable of practical application to life.
]^owhere have the misconceptions as to the place, function, and
value of historical study been more apparent and more striking than
in the field of the history of the States of the American Union, and
this in spite of the fact that the span of years of the oldest of them
has been so short that it is not beyond the power of anyone to acquaint
himself with its whole course to the present. 'Nor are the sources
of their history lost and their origins wrapped in doubt and mystery.
In the case of every one of them it is the brief story of the develop-ment
of a people, so simple to be mastered that it is almost true
that he who runs may read. It is also a fact easily to be proved,
I think, that widespread knowledge of state history among its cit-izens
is not only practicable, bait that its possibilities in the way of
good results to the commonwealth are boundless.
Take the case of our own commonwealth, IsTorth Carolina. If the
things which I have indicated constitute the vital in history, must
we not revise our past attitude towards the history of the state as we
have taught it and chiefly emphasized it ? Let us ask ourselves frankly
if we have not been inclined to emphasize in that history the things
whichj are, if vital at all, of secondary importance in reaching correct
judgments concerning the things which have made us what we are, or
concerning the problems of the state today. As a result of the teach-ing
of our history does the average !N'orth Carolinian have any back-ground
of knowledge and training by which he can analyze existing
State Literary and Historical Association 17
situations in order to base opinion concerning them and conduct in
relation to them upon a sure foundation ? Have we not, in a too eager
desire for primacy, too frequently selected for emphasis happenings
which have had little or no real influence on the later life of our
people, which play no part in our life today? Similarly, have we not
ignored the conditions, movements, and tendencies which have vitality,
which would serve to explain to us why we are what we are, an analysis
of which might render us more capable of shaping our destiny for the
better? Frankly, have we not sought to write and teach the things
calculated to develop a sort of purposeless ancestor worship, to breed
perfect contentment, a smug satisfaction with what we are and have been,
rather than to emphasize the larger and more significant facts calcu-lated
to breed dissatisfaction, a divine discontent which might lead
us faster along the paths of progress?
Eor the evidence is overwhelming that our past has not been all
glorious, and that its inglorious features rather than their reverse
have constituted a large part of the normal conditions v/hich have
shaped our present.
We are reminded at every sight of the state flag that we claim
certain primacies in the struggle against the mother country in defense
of the principle of no taxation without representation. It is a fact
far more vital to our present that from 1776 to 1920—nearly a cen-tury
and a half—we have lived under a self-imposed system of tax-ation
which in iniquity has far surpassed anything that the Crown
and Parliament of Great Britain in their most arbitrary and supposedly
tyrannical mood ever dreamed of imposing on us.
Again, we emphasize the individualistic tendencies of our people
as indicating a love of liberty, but we fail to show that it has man-ifested
itself most notably in our inability to organize effectively
foT the common good, to develop any widespread civic consciousness
and civic responsibility, to see in taxation a method of cooperative
support of a cooperative undertaking for the general welfare. Rather
we have viewed taxes as an imposition which it was right at any cost
of morals to evade, and, as a result, have lived for most of our years,
through the denial of opportunity to the majority of our citizens',
in a state of servitude. Perhaps you ask, "Liberty loving N'orth
Carolina in servitudef Yes, the servitude which is of all those of
the ages the most grinding* depressing, and enduring, the servitude
imposed by ignonance, which throughout our history has held us, as a
commonwealth, tied and bound in its chiains. It has not been confined
2
18 Twentieth Annual Session
to the ignorant. Those it has crushed utterly, cutting them off from
their God-given heritage of freedom, and denying to them and their
children liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and in many cases life
itself, all three of which we have solemnly declared in the Declaration
of Independence to be inalienable rights of mankind. It has imposed
upon the rest—the enlightened—as well, a heavy burden—that of
carrying the dead weight of the whole, and of seeing all their ambi-tions
for JSTorth Carolina's swift advancement die as the gravity of
the load irresistibly held them hack on the paths of progress until
in many cases hope itself died.
In the same way, we have constantly reminded ourselves and the
world that I^orth Carolina was first at Bethel, farthest at Gettysburg
and Chickamauga, and last at Appomattox. I yield to none in my deep
pride and reverence for those men who so nobly and heroically carried
the banners of a lost cause, but I submit in all seriousness that their
achievements are not so vital in our history as are the facts that l^orth
Carolina has been at times first in mortality from typhoid fever
and homicides, farthest for a long stretch of years in white adult
male illiteracy, and at least close to last in recognizing the over-whelming
importance of the great social purposes for which modem
government may be said to exist.
We have all heard of late constant Iboiasting of our fine economy
in government. It is a far more vital fact that we have spent less
for the larger social aims of government than any other state save one,
for there lies the explanation of illiteracy, poverty, the steady loss
of population that drained our life blood through a large part of our
history, the failure to develop the ^almost fabulous natural resources
of the state, the loss of opportunity to millions among whom were doubt-less
innumerable unhonored and unsung Murpheys, Vances, and Aycocks.
We have needed desperately all of these millions, trained and equipped
for constructive citizenship, but more desperately still have we felt
the lack of missing leaders. Their loss is irreparable.
-Tin ally, we have heard much within the last few years of the start-ling
figures of our Federal taxes as illustrative of our prosperity.
The figures are indeed startling when the vital fact is presented that
the Federal taxes paid in the state during the last year amounted to
more by twenty-five million dollars than the state has spent in its
whole history for the compelling duty of educating its children; and
the further fact that the amount paid in the last two years to the
United States in taxes is greater than all that has been expended in
ISTorth Carolina for both public and private education combined since
Amadas and Barlowe first saw the green island of Roanoke.
State Literary and Historical Association 19
These are cbaracteristic instances—extreme ones, if you will—of
the tendency I have indicated, of our failure to apply the test of
validity. All of these and many, many more are vital factors in our
history. For every one of them touches us closely today; all have
had significant effects upon our environment, our opportunity, our
character as a people, upon our whole life. The burden of them will
rest upon our children do what we will.
Do not misunderstand me. The day will never come, and never
ought to come, when we shall fail to recognize and be properly proud
of the deeds and lives which are the spot lights of our history. But
their brightness must not so dazzle us as to blind us to the existence
of the skeleton in our closet. The dead past 'oannot in such a case
bury its own dead; that is our task. Growth and progress demand
that we face the fact of their existence, and sedk for them burial and,
it may be, through our reformation and expiation, final oblivion.
But until we recognize their vitality even in death, history cannot
through the training of our citizens pour out upon us its richest bounty.
To those of the past we owe, perchance, a debt which we can never
pay ; but no payment is demanded other than that of emulation of their
virtues and of being warned by their faults; of remedying the wrongs
they committed, of rectifying their errors, and of fulfilling the things
that they omitted to do. Our great debt is to those who lare yet to
come, and it is in the light of history that we must pay that debt.
In behalf of your children and mine, of the generation yet unborn,
let us in ISTorth Carolina learn the vital things, and so far as in us
lies, set about righting of the wrongs, the undoing of the mistakes,
and the doing of all the things that have been left undone in the
achievement of liberty and justice.
But the task of emphasizing the vital things is not one merely of
the historical specialist or even of the teacher; it is rather the
responsibility of all who love E'orth Carolina. The objective of all
our historical study of the state must be refixed and restated. In
our schools, in our colleges, among our people generally, emphasis
must be laid upon the vital, and the past thus linked with the present
for the sake of the future.
The end of it all should be to show, not alone wherein I^orth Car-olina
is first, but rather the reason for her lagging anywhere, that
the means for improvement may be found ; to give to her sons and
daughters, not only information as to how great she is, but, more vital
still, the knowledge of how through their efforts and their lives she
may become far greater.
What the World Wants of the United States
By John Spencer Bassett, Ph.D., LL.D.
Professor of American History, Smith College
The elections of 1920 have come and gone. They always come and go
once in four years in this country of ours, whether we need them or not.
We have heard the results, and if we are good Americans we have accept-ed
them, whether we wished them or not. This is our country, the
country of all the people, and when the people have spoken in their elec-tions
the individual citizen accepts the result. If he is a good citizen
he ceases to defbate the execution of the decision of the voters. It is
only when the election comes around that he can again bring the matter
into question and debate the wisdom of the policy that has been followed,
or that is proposed for future adoption. I make this plain statement
in the beginning because I wish you to follow me into the discussion
of the evening with minds clear of any party leanings.
Since the war with Spain, twenty-two years ago, the foreign relations
of the United States have steadily enlarged. Much has been said
recently about "entanglements with foreign nations." But for twenty-two
years we have been steadily entangling ourselves with other nations,
binding up our future in certain well defined policies v/hich we cannot
change lat this time without seriously compromising our honor and
interests. We have announced our support of an "open door" in the
East in such terms that we should be deeply humiliated as a nation
if we had to give it up at the demand of other nations. We have
steadily tied ourselves up in the Caribbean Sea by assuming what are
in fact the relations of protectorates over Cuba, Santo Domingo,
Haiti, ^N'icaragua, and Panama. We have become responsible for
the development of the Philippine Islands into la country capable of
self government; and in doing so we have undertaken to protect them
while under our own control ; and if we are able to carry out our announc-ed
purpose of making them independent in due time, we shall have to con-tinue
that protection as against the designs of ambitious neighbors.
In all these respects the United States have accepted obligations in
keepingi with the powers of a great nation. What has been done has
alarmed nobody. It has come about gradually, and the states imme-diately
concerned with us are not strong enough to be dangerous. But
no one knows how soon the obligations we have taken may run counter
State Litekary and Historical Association 21
to the interests of a great power in such a way that our utmost strength
would he necessary to sustain us if the worst came to worst in the
course we have mapped out.
It is also noteworthy that in assuming protectorates over these
states we have acted for our own interests only in an ideal sense. That
is, there is no immediate necessity for estahlishing a protectorate
over any of the states named, except Panama, where the protection
of the canal is a matter of immediate policy. In regard to the other
states we have acted because sagacity shows us that in the long run
it is for our interests to have Cuba, Santo Domingo, and the Philippines
exist in a state of enlightened prosperity, and for that reason we feel
justified in lending our strength in promoting and guiding with a firm
hand, if necessary, the development of these states. 'No^ one objects to
this policy, so far as I know.
Our latest notable extension of our relations with the rest of the
world was in entering the world war. We did not do it because we
wished to, but because it was forced upon us by the bald necessity
of the case. The origin of the struggle was not of our making. It
grew out of a rivalry as old as the centuries. Its seeds were planted
and replanted in the Congiress of Vienna in 1815, the Treaty of San
Stefano, the Congress of Berlin, 1878, and in the negotiations con-nected
with the end of the Balkan war of 1912—1913. The desire
for Constantinople, the jealousies of the Great Powers, the cultiva-tion
of national chauvinism, the false theory that Balance of Power
can preserve peace : all these things were not things of our making, and
they were fundamentally connected with the origin of the war. We
came into it when it had become a life and death struggle for world
empire on the part of G-ermany. If she won no state's life was safe ; so
we believed in 1917, and when she played her last card—ruthless sub-marine
warfare—we were called to strike or eat words that only a
coward could swallow. And so we fought and gave a decisive turn to the
war. When we entered it with energy, in the summer of 1918, the
two sides were near the point of exhaustion, but the advantage was
with Germany. We changed the odds by throwing our fresh and
unexhausted strength into the struggle; and the world was made secure
from the Teutonic threat.
Then rose a situation no one had expected in a very definite man-ner.
The tenseness of the struggle, the exhaustion it created in all
the belligerent states, the misplacing of business and political inter-relation,
and the threatening rise of a proletarian regime all had to be
dealt with. What was going to be the position of the United States
22 Twentieth Annual Session
in this settlement? Many of ns liave asked the question and some
have tried to answer it, some on one side and some on another. It has
been two years and more since the silence of peace settled over
N"o Man's Land, but to this day it is not determined what shall be
the attitude of the United States to the problems that face the world
in its hour of restoration. We have been so lost in the meshes of the
great political debate that we have forgotten to consider the fundamental
situation that lies behind all our contention. It is a situation that
would exist, with o'r without a League of JsTations. It would exist
with an Association of ISTations : It would exist if we set up a world
court without the power of coercion. It would exist, but in another
way, if it was decided that no formal attempts at international cooper-ation
would be made. It is always there, in the fringes of the present,
where today runs into tomorrow, and we cannot know too clearly what
claims it has upon our sympathy and interests. The people are the
rulers. It is we who have to understand so that we may decide. In
its largest and most apparent phase it is closely connected with the
world's industrial life; and we cannot do better than consider for a few
minutes in what respect international industry stands today in a situa-tion
of abnormality, and in what respect our own interests are involved
in its critical condition.
The mechanism of international commerce is the product of long ex-perience.
It depends upon the proper adjustment of international fi-nance,
trade, credits, the supply of raw materials, hopefulness, transpor-tation,
and various other activities. One of its noticeable qualities is
its tendency to go in the channels in which it has been in the habit of
going. For example, when the people of a certain state have become
used to buying and using the merchandise of a certain other state, it is
very difficult to get them to drop what they have been using and begin
to use mechandise that comes from a third state, even though it may
be possible to prove that the merchandise of the third country is better
in itself. It is not often in the history of industry that we encounter
a general shaking up of trade conditions, giving us the possibility of miak-ing
new adjustments without a long period of struggle to capture markets.
But it is just at such a situation that the world has arrived today,
not through its choice, but through its necessities. Countries that form-erly
were firmly established in all the phases of industry are now in severe
straits. The manufacturing, transportation and credit facilities of the
continent of Europe are in a confused condition. It will take them
several years to regain the state of equilibrium, and while they are com-ing
to that happy state the United States have a wonderful opportunity
State Literary and Historical Association 23
to get and hold a footing there, which at later time could be obtained
only by a process of severe competition.
Whether we do or do not utilize the opportunity before us depends
primarily on our business men ; but not entirely. It depends to a not-able
extent on the attitude of the people of the country. Unquestion-ably
there are a few people in the United Sattes who would deliberately
and knowingly block our progress in this respect. But there are many
who could block it by not knowing what the situation is and how their
own views of what the government ought to do in the situation bear
upon it. It is our good fortune to live under a government of the people.
Well, at this moment the people of this country are called upon to decide
whether or not they shall block or promote the development of the United
States in keeping with the industrial and political opportunities that
confront us in international affairs. With the best intentions in the
world our people cannot be expected to act prudently in the matter unless
they understand the opportunities that confront us.
Before 1914 the United States was a debtor nation. For years we
had borrowed money to build railroads, canals and industrial plants, and
to develop mining and agriculture. For the interest on our borrow-ings
we had to pay Europe annually more than $250,000,000. What-ever
else we did this money had to be paid. We fulfilled the descrip-tion
involved in the biblical phrase, '^The ^borrower is a servant of the
lender." We had chosen, also, to put our best efforts into manufactur-ing,
as some sections of our farmers put all their efforts in production
of one crop, expecting to buy what they needed in other respects. Thus
we had given up the operation of a merchant marine and were paying
Europeans $200,000,000 a year to carry our goods to market. This in-terest
charge and this freight bill, with the amount of money our tourists
took abroad with them and some other items, made a grand total of
nearly $600,000,000 a; year.
The sum was so great that it was impossible to pay it in gold, the
only international money. To have tried to do so would have ex-hausted
the stock of gold in the country in a few years, whicih means
that our banks would have been forced to suspend specie payiaents of
their notes. It Was about nine times as much as the amount of gold
mined in this country annually. The other alternative was to pay
it in commodities; and that is what we did. Every year we sent
abroad $600,000,000 worth of products in excess of the value of the
merchandise we imported. If we did not quite make the total out-go
and the total in-come balance we called the difference the balance
of trade. If the prices of our commodities were low the result was
that they did not sell for enough to pay all we owed for merchandise
24 Twentieth Ai^nual Sessioj^
irolported and for tJie stated obligations, and we said tliat the balance
of trade was against us. If they sold for more tban we owed tbe
balance of trade was in our favor. Wken it was against us we sent
gold abroad to pay it, when it was in our favor we received gold
to nUake up the balance. There were times of great uneasiness when
the balance against us was large and the drain of our gold outward
was heavy.
The day Europe broke into war our long period of bondage began
to mend. Europe now began to buy from us far more heavily than
we Vv-ere buying from her. Desiring to keep her gold in Europe she
began to send back to us the bonds we had sold her, and on which
we were paying interest. During the first three years of the war
she miore than canceled the debt we had owed her before the war be^
gan. At the same tim^e we were forced to think of our o^vn ship-ping.
We built it up until we ceased to reily on other countries, and
thus we slaved in our own pockets the larger part of the freight bill
we had formerly paid. iBut the steady stream lof orders for Amer-ican
meirchandise continued to pour into our offices, and by the time
the third year of war was beginning Europe was )forced to go on a
borrowing basis. We now became the lender, and Europe became
the borrower. From having been forced through many years to
wait upon the pleasure of others, we were in a position to have others
wait upon our pleasure.
In May, 1917, the United States had been in the war one month.
Great men from London, Paris, Rome and other cities, some of which
we had to get down atlasses to know where they were, began to arrive
in Washington. They told us many important things about how to
carry on the war into which we had entered ; but they were all urgent
for loans. The big states wanted big loans, the little states would
take lanything we had to offer. And to all of them our government
lent according to their necessities. The British came first, and
the nev/spapers announced that they wished to borrow £50,000,000.
The response in the press was favorable and it was announced that
they wished £100,000,000. After a few days it was stated that the
United States government had decided to lend them $500,000,000.
Probably some of us did not at the time notice the change in terms.
The value of the pound is determined by the British parliament:
the value of the dollar is determined by the congress of the United
States. It was thought just as well that the borrower did not
have the power to fix the value of his own debt symbol. The incident
marks the chanjge of position that had occurred in the financial rela-tions
of the two nations. For the first time in many years Great
State Liteeaey and Histoeical Association 25
Britain was not in the position to dictate. Slie had to accept dic-tation,
which is the ordinary fate of the debtor.
At last the war ended. The horrible wound on the face of the
earth, running from the iborders of Switzerland to the E'orth Sea,
ceased to bleed. Through it hmnanitj had been yielding up its life
for more than four years. It remained to be seen if the patient
had been reduced to such a state of weakness that death would come
of sheer weakness. For more than two years we have been watching
with aiixiety the struggle between exhaustion and the recupera-tive
powers of nature. It is only with the approach of a new spring
season, that we are beginning to feel (that the crisis is about to pass
favorably; but the patient is greatly in need of nourishment, and if
he does not get it ugly complications are possible.
The situation of the world today may be summed up as follows
:
In 1913 the aggregate deibt of the nations of the world was $43,200,-
931,000; since the war, by the best available information it is $279,-
014,9018,000, an increiase of about $236,000,000,000. The United
Kingdom of Great Britain, which was believed to bo heavily in debt
in 1913 at $3,485 millions, now owes $39,314 millions. France
owed them $6,346 millions : she now owes $46,025 millions. Italy
then ov/ed $2,921 millions : she now owes $18,102 millions. Germiany,
including the German states, before the war owed $5,048 millions
she nov/ ov/es on the same basis $59,861 millions. The smaller of
the belligerent nations have, in general, been forced to increase their
indebtedness in the same relative mianner. I^ations that were be-lieved
to be burdened to the limit of prosperity in 1913 have in-creased
their obligation from six to eleven times as much as they
then owed. With industry prostrate they have to aissume the in-creased
burden. On a population filled with discontent they have
to lay new and heavy taxes, with the danger 1}hat a des'pairing elector-ate
may run into the extremes of radicalism and solve their difficul-ties
by repudiating the whole obligation. It is a situation demand-ing
patience and wise assistance from whatever source available.
From this distressed condition of Europe turn the eye to the United
States. In 1913 their ddbt was $1,028 millions: in 1920 it was
$24,299 millions. For the time we were in the war the rate at
which it plunged us in deibt was exceedingly high. If we had been
in from the first, and the same rate ratio had mainjtiained through the
whole war, which is not probable, we should have increased our debt
by more than $62,000,000,000', the interest on which at five per
cent, would have amounted to $3,100 millions la year. And this
26 Twentieth Annual Session
would mean tbat every man^ woman and' ciiild in the country would
pay on an average of $30 a year in taxes merely to pay tlie interest
on the war ddbt. Sucli a burden, lieavy as it seems, would not be
heavier than the burden before which Europe shudders.
The United States, however, came out of the war without having
impaired seriously their powers of production. In fact, so care-fully
had those powers been stimulated during the war that we are
today, as respects manufacturing plants and the mastery of the re-sources
of nature, in a better position than ever before to meet the
demands on our processes 'of production. During the war we im-proved
the processes of agriculture, so that a man with the same
amount of land can make more of la given product than before the war.
At the same time we have materially enlarged our mianufacturing
plants, drawing into them rapidly the working papulation at thte
expense of rural industries. By the census statistics just made public
51% of the population of the country now live in towns and cities; that
is less than half of the people in the country are producing the food
on which the 51% of the population must live. We are thus about
to arrive at the stage of development to which Alexander Hamilton
looked forward in his Report on Manufactures—when we can more
is, less than half of the people in the country are producing the food
its wants in food products.
For a time after peace came to the world, the deanand for our
conmiodities came freely froim tihe utmost parts of the world. We
could sell all we could produce, and more. We have never been able
to satisfy the demand. Today there are people in Europe who are
in dire distress for merchandise that we can make, although our
mills are closed down or on part time, because they cannot sell
to those who have nothing with which to piay. Thus it happens
that textile mills in 'New England are closing down, while people in
Poland are shivering in their outworn and threadbare garments.
The outward expression of such a situation is the rate of exchange.
In normal times nations balance their accounts by figuring the values
of their respective units of money on a basis of the gold value in them.
When, however, the foreign nation has not the goods to export to an-other
nation in payment for what it imports, nor the gold with which
to settle the balance of trade, it stops buying from that nation. When
it sees such a cessation as a possibility, it tends to check its advance
by raising the rate of exchange. For example, in normal times, when
France buy^ from us about what she sells to us, she counts five francs
as approximately equal to our dollar. When her citizens find that
State Literary and Historical Association 27
it is liard to get bills on JSTew York, tliat is bills to pay for wbat France
has exported to tbe United States tbey begin to offer higher sums than
five francs for a dollar. They may offer six or ten if their neces-sities
are great, in these days they are offering, and paying daily,
more than sixteen francs for a dollar. American imports are cost-ing
the French people very dearly. They are costing them so much
that there has been a great shrinkage of orders for them. It is not
likely that there will be a change until the French are able to send us
their own goods more freely than they can now send them. Our
industrial relations with France are similar to our relations with most
other countries. Everywhere, despite the fact that we are not run-ning
factories on full time we are sending out vastly more than we
sent before the war, and more than we are receiving. The world's
balance of trade is in our favor to a large amount.
At the same time we have a large account against the rest of the
world for interest on the loans made by our government during
the war.
The amount of these loans in round numbers is $9,711,000,000 al-though
a slight reduction has been made in some of them through read-justments.
At the same time increased borrowing in private accounts
in our money markets has increased still more the amount of our in-terest
account against Europe. Combining the two items it is esti-mated
that v/e are in a position to demand about $600,000,000 annually
from Europe in payment of interest. At present we are not collect-ing
the interest on our public lendings. If that were demanded it
would put the rate of exchange still higher. While we forego it, how-ever,
it is being paid by the faithful American taxpayer to the amount
of about $405,000,000 a year.
Such is the business situation today in the world. Europe is wound-ed
to the quick, the United States are full of life and energy and ready
for greater achievements than ever before, but suffering just at this
moment because the purchasing power of the rest of the world is so
badly reduced that orders are not being received. What does Europe
want of the United States under these circumstances ? And what reply
should we make to her requests? Is it not that she wants what every
distressed man wants of his strong and prosperous neighbor? It is
not charity to enable her to live in a state of dependence, but aid in
recovering economic independence. For if one of two neighbors lives
in poverty and distress and the other lives in luxury and does not try
to help him who suffers, the happiness and prosperity of each will be
diminished.
28 Twentieth Annual Session
Two metliods of meeting tlie case and rendering help to the sufferers,
are possible. One is to wipe off tlie debts and let Europe make a
new start, so far as we are concerned. The other is to adopt and carry
through a wise plan of helpfulness to enable Europe, our customer, to
get on her feet and pay her debts as she becomes self-supporting again.
The objections to the first plan may be summed up as follows
:
(1) It is not scientific. It is no real help to Europe to make her a
gift, since in accepting it she would lose that sense of self-reliance
which is the basis of good national as well as of good personal character.
The individual is better off when he pays his own debts. (2) Assum-ing
that the bonds are to run for 35 years at four and a quarter per cent,
interest the ultimate sum paid by our taxpayers would be $23,252,000,-
000. That is too much burden to assume unless its assumption is
inevitaWa. In this case it is not inevitable. Europe is not bankrupt,
utterly: she is bankrupt temporarily. There is a way to put her on
her feet again, and that way is to accept the second of the two plans
just mentioned.
When a business concern falls into temporary disaster, it goes into the
hands of a receiver, whose function is to take direction of operations, re^
duce unnecessary expense, cut off unprofitable features of the business,
reform the direction of sales, manufacturing and other departments and
generally re-establish the life and energy of the enterprise. While he
operates he holds in abeyance, if necessary, the payment of obligations
incurred in the past ; and to obtain money to carry on the business in its
new form he issues certificates of receivership, which have status of
preferred obligations over old debts. By this means the receiver is
able to relieve the business of its embarassir^ents, if it is fundamentally
sound, and to put it in a way to pay off its obligations.
There is every reason to believe that the nations of Europe are today
fundamentally sound. They have the working population necessary
to resum>e their ante-bellum operations, they have the plants they once
had, except in the districts in which the ravages of war occurred in
their worst forms; they have the facility to manufacture developed
through long periods of skilful production ; and they have the willingness
to come back. Their great need, like the need of an embarassed cor-poration,
is capital to tide them over the period of re-organization.
If they could be put through some such process as I have indicated
the capital could be obtained- It is only necessary to offer as security
something more than the general pledge of the governments concerned,
since in such case the security is nothing more than the security
State Litekaey and Historical Association 29
behind tlie general debts of these governments, and that is a security
deeply impaired by the weight of debt that the war has produced.
Of course it is difficult to induce the nations of Europe to place them-selves
into the hands of a receiver. Their instincts are against giving
up their full control over their affairs. Certainly, they could not be ex-pected
to place themselves in the hands of any other power, however
great and good. It is not desired that they place themselves under the
supervision of the United States. I^or is it desirable that we should as-sume
any such obligation. Our form of government, our domestic prob-lems,
and our national habits are such as to make it inadvisable to set
ourselves up as the sole guardians in such a matter.
But it would be a different thing if there were an international
commission, in which the nations themselves should have representatives,
to take over the functions of adjustment; and in this commission our
government could have representation. The plan of the League of
N^ations looked forward to such a commission. It does juot yet
appear what is to be the future of the League. But it is not necessary
to have the League in order to have the Commission. It is only ne-cessary
for the governments to pledge their faith to organize it and carry
it through in good faith. It should be endowed with power to tell the
nations concerned what they ought to do in order to restore their finan-cial
health, to enforce during its existence the necessary economies
in public expenditures, and to give direction to the development of
national industry in so far as it is necessary to direct it in order to get
the best possible results out of it. It is an enterprise that would not
involve any of the co-operating states in war, or in any obligations
that would lead to war. It would rest solely upon the world's sense
of good business, a thing which has never failed the world in the past.
^ow the basis of confidence in such a process is the economic
interests of the co-operating states and nations. I can think of no
party to the plan whose happiness would not demand its success. The
merchants of the United States would be interested because it would
give solidity to international trade, the financiers because it would re-move
unoertainty from international investments, the manufacturers
because it would enlarge the markets for their products, farmers because
it would enable foreign purchasers to take more freely of our food and
cotton. The taxpayers of the United States would be deeply interested
in it because it is the surest way for them to escape having to assume
the payment of the money we have loanedj to Europe. Of the people
in Europe I can think of none who would be opposed to such a thing
except those experimenters who declare that human happiness depends
30 Twentieth Annual Session
upon tlie entire overthrow of the existing form of society. They do
not desire the stabilization of society, for their hope is in the spread
of discontent and confusion.
Besides the force that a reasonable sense of self-interest would give
to the plan, we have the power of our credit as a means of protecting
ourselves if worse should come to worse. In any normal condition of
trade in the coming years we can expect the balance of trade to be de-cidedly
in our favor. By calling for the interests on the loans we can
make it necessary for Europe to send us more than four hundred mil-lion
dollars a year on that one account. 'Now outside of the United
States the world's production of gold does not exceed in value $305,-
000,000. If Europe could command all of it—and she cannot do
that—she would not be able to send us in money the interest she owes
on the debt by $100,000,000. Let us say her available gold supply for
export out of increased production in the mines is $250,000,000, which
is liberal, she would still have to find $150,000,000 in either gold or
products to pay her bill. And to this we must add the interest she
will have to pay on the increasing volume of private loans she is con-tracting
in this country. On the other hand, we could use this im-portant
power of credit in such a way as to benefit Europe; or, if it be-came
necessary through some unfair conduct on her part, it could be
used to force her to do as we wished. If, for example, we called to^
day for the interest due on the loan, it would exhaust the gold reserve
of Europe in four years. It would not be necessary to use such power.
The mere existence would be enough to warrant that it would not have
to be used.
In this discussion I have tried to keep the argument on a purely
economic basis; but it has a moral side also. We are in a position to
make ourselves liked in Europe as no other nation has been liked
there, and being liked as a people will promote our business interests
there. It seems inevitable that our capital will have to be loaned
freely to put Europe on her feet again ; but it makes a deal of difference
whether we lend it in a haphazard way, or in accordance with some
scheme that commends itself to the business intelligence of the nation.
If in the former way uncertainty and irregularity will ensue, and
much of the good will and respect that might have been had will be
dissipated.
Before Europe the United States stands today as the rich uncle
who has been to distant lands, accumulated a vast fortune, and comes
back among his impoverished relatives, all of whom are intent on
getting some of his money, which they need sorely. He is not a
!
State Literary and Historical Association 31
selfisti or mean man and he means to help as he can. In carrying out
his purposes he can follow one of three courses. He can hand out
his money lavishly, taking no receipts and asking nothing in return,
in a truly avuncular way. In that case he will receive many kisses
and few thanks. Or he can take the position of the very suspicious
man, who doesn't mean to be hoodwinked by persons who profess their
love and loyalty. In such a case he will have his money screwed out
of him in parcels, some of it going to those who should have it, and some
of it going to those whose tongues are most clever. A third course is
to take a broad view of the situation, confer in good faith with all who
want, get the facts on the situation, lay down on the table as much as
he can spare, and hand it out to those who wish and who will use
it in such a way as will yield him a, safe return while it enables them
to proceed in their business in an advantageous manner. For which
of these courses have you the proper respect? And for which do you
think the beneficiaries will have the greatest gratitude? By follow-ing
the third the wise uncle v/ill make himself a place in the com-munity.
He will be able to write his ideas on its future development
and maintain some kind of control on its course.
What does the world want of this rich and fortunate country of ours ?
Money? Yes, it wants money—not money flung at it in the spirit
of a nabob, as one who should say: "Take it ! I have plenty!" But money
that is the expression of a broad understanding of the world's problems
;
money that is burnished with intelligence; money that talks because
it understands the task it has to do. It needs the help that is an ex-pression
of knowledge. That is the only help that is worthy of us,
and the only help that will yield us the permanent friendship of the
peoples of the world. And if it is given to the world in the way that
makes th<3 world respect our leadership, the result will write the word
"America" across the history of the twentieth century in letters that
shall never fade. It will make for us an influence that is only limited
by the capacity of our country to wield it.
Please do not misunderstand me. I do not wish to force the current
of events. That is always unwise. But it does not seem too much to
urge that the situation actually before the world today be turned over
to men who know how to meet it. When the business intelligence of
the United States has been trusted it has always proved equal to the
demand upon it. Turn over the world's industrial crisis to it. Tell it
to obtain first of all the confidence and co-operation of the business
32 Twentieth Annual Session
intelligence of the stricken countries. I think it can do that, for it
has always been able to do it in the past. Let it, out of this general con-fidence
and co-operation, create the group that is to direct and give
authority to the efforts that are to be made. And while the process is
going on let us all agree that the people of the United States will give
their moral support to the government. Let them also remember to
keeps hands off. There must be no throwing of monkey-wrenches.
There must for once be a trusting of the experts in the realms of the
technical. Whether we shall meet this crisis in some such way as this,
or muddle through it according to the instincts of the moment, is the
great question of the day. What the world wants of the United States
today is business sagacity, breadth of view, and leadership.
Patriotism
By John Erskine, Ph.D., LL.D.
Columbia University
Thougli we cannot say that the outward circumstances of a man's
life are the logical projection of his character, yet we may wish that
they were. In so far as we can make/ the world over, we should like a
man's possessions and the scene he occupies to be, as Socrates prayed,
in harmony with what he is. But however this harmony may be our
desire, it seems to be no concern of the gods ; the human lot, if left to
itself, continues to fall in curious and unequal places, for the historian
to set down, even if he cannot explain them, and for the philosopher to
surmount by whatever wings he may command. Only from time to
time intelligence looks the hard fact in the face, and some strong will
undertakes to bring about in life that order which it cannot find there.
Then, at least for that moment, the race approaches the moral climax of
civilization, when some man assumes responsibility for the environment
in which he has been placed. To make so magnificent an assumption
is once more to steal the fire from heaven. The exploit w^e need not
add, is unusual; the Titan is rare. But no other assumption converts
the stream of experience into a drama so exciting, so human and so
significant, or opens to the imagination a career so bold. In private
life, although we cannot measure the extent to which the accidents of
birth and nature determine our fortunes, yet without hesitation we
distinguish in degree of nobility between him who accepts his fate with
resignation, as something that has happened to him, and him who tries
first to see in each event some witness to his own progress or his own
error in the art of life. Though in this world of infinite changes and
chances we are aware how small an area of experience can ever be
brought under our 'control, yet since the area of responsibility is all the
field we have for the exercise of character, we give our admiration to
the man who would enlarge its boundaries. N^ot only in private life,
but in public affairs as well. There will always be men and women
who conceive of government and of society as sections of environment
related to them geographically, as it were, but not morally—oT^jects for
them to study, to criticize, and possibly to reform. But they whose
character is most exalted, and whose imiagination em!braces the widest
arc of experience, perceive that the reform must begin in themselves,
for they are government, and tJiey are society—or if this is not strictly
3
34 Twentieth Annual Session
the fact, they desire it at once to be so. For them patriotism is a human
and practical religion, a pursuit of their own ideals in the image of their
country, a moral passion urging them to the decisions of intelligence
and of conduct, with possibilities of heaven or hell.
What usually goes by the name of patriotism and takes on extra-ordinary
value in time of war, is the natural love of the soil, of the
place where we and our people have lived. Unless some abnormal in-fluence
pervert us, all men have this love which clings to the world as
it is. Yet this kind of patriotism, one of the most beautiful of instincts,
is nevertheless an instinct, and needs to be distinguished from that rare
moral virtue of which I now speak, which not only regards its environ-ment
with pious affection, but assumes responsibility for it, as for the
consequences of its own choice. The man who never to himself has
said, "This is my own, my native land," is in some sense indeed a
dead soul; he lacks that instinctive piety out of which what we may
call a moral patriotism can rise. But the majority of mankind, who
are frequently conscious of their native land, and who earn thereby the
common name of patriots, do not, after all, deserve the exclusive
award of the title, nor the excessive praise which poets and orators
have lavished upon them. Why should a man be praised for having
that which not to have is to be despicable or maimed? What virtue is
there in having the usual two hands or two eyes? Or what high
place in story should be ours merely for loving the children we beget?
Do we suspect our instincts begin to fail, that we should pride our-selves
on having one good instinct still in common with other
animals? The love of the soil, the love of our own place, like the
aifection for our young, is planted it seems in every heart that heats at
all ; it is not so much a grace of life as a condition on which life is toler-able
; it is so bound up with the other rooted pieties of our nature, that
to separate it, as I wish now to do, from a higher quality, to say that it
is only an instinct, and to praise the virtue that rises upon instinct,
seems to intend violence, even sacrilege, to a sacred trust. Yet without
intending violence or sacrilege, we may properly remind ourselves of
some half forgotten claims of the life of reason. At critical moments of
history there have been thoughtful enquiries as to which kind of patriot-ism
is truly a virtue, the fidelity to the environment, or the insistence
that the environment should be faithful to our character; and twice or
thrice great spirits have tried to dedicate even the mass of common men
to a moral responsibility for the world about them. Such another
critical moment we live through now and we have special need to make
the enquiry once more, ^o single leader has arisen to dedicate us to a
State Literary and Historical Association 35
moral patriotism, and none seems likelj at this moment to arrive. All
the more cause why scholars as a hody, and men of thoughtful habits
should make available for their fellows the wisdom that the race experi-ence
yields. This wisdom, if known, would itself be a kind of leader-ship,
and no other kind, as it seems to me, are we likely to have for some
time.
During the war and since the armistice we have listened to voices un-deniably
great. We have been summoned to sacrifice and to unselfish-ness,
we have had held before us a noble and, however vague, a last-ing
vision of world peace, and we have been urged—we believe not in
vain—to assume responsibility for the conditions of mankind outside our
borders. But at the same time, and wdth an inconsistency not new in
human annals, we have had preached at us, and perhaps we ourselves
have preached, the desirability of only one kind of patriotism at home,
the instinctive kind, which issues in obedience rather than in moral re-sponsibility.
We have watched the coming on the American scene of a
formidable apparition—the spirit which lays upon the political offender,
upon the minority which we hope is mistaken, but which we know is
frank, a condemnation more lasting and more severe than upon the
weakling who hides himself at the nation's call for aid. A deficiency
in the primal instinct to cherish and protect our kindred and the place
of one's birth, we have seen treated iby a considerable and supposedly
solid public opinion, as a not very serious defect, perhaps even a symp-tom
of idealism; whereas a disposition to scrutinize national policy or
national conduct, or to sharpen the public conscience to defects in our
social or political world, with the intent to remedy them, has come to
be thought dangerous as a viper's fangs, not to he argued with but to
be stamped on. The spirit which makes this distinction is, I repeat, a
formidaJble apparition, fraught as I think with no good to our national
philosophy. It is, for one thing, too much like the spectre of ruth-lessness
against which we undertook to crusade, and it has aptitudes for
teaching us those quick ways of dealing with minorities which we used
to consider typical of the older Roissian tyranny. Worst of all, the
spirit which discourages the rational and moral patriotism, and culti-vates
only the instinctive and emotional, will raise up a dragon to devour
those noble dreams of world unselfishness to which, as I said, we have
been called to dedicate ourselves. The love of the soil, so long as it re-mains
only an instinct, has in it no element of concern for anyone
else's land. We need not be surprised, therefore, if a nation trained
to be patriotic instinctively and uncritically, and in no higher way,
subscribes at last to an exclusive nationalism, with indifference, almost
with hostility, to other people.
36 Twentieth Annual Session
To raise the question at all is to incur risk of misunderstanding.
There is the risk of seeming to agree with any political offender who
may come to your mind as illustration of the point just made. In
suggesting that moral patriotism is more desirable than the merely in-stinctive
kind, we may seem blind to the fact that when an instinct is
opposed to an idea it is usually the instinct which prevails; after
enough instruction to convince us of the contrary we still have a feel-ing
that the sun goes around the earth. We know further that to in-timate
the inferiority of the instincts as guides to conduct as over
against the reason is a curious folly in an age like ours when both the
familiar and popular philosophies have chosen to glorify instinct. But
this is an old battle field of intelligence, this opposition of the rational
to the merely instinctive life. At the risk of being misunderstood and
at the still more certain risk of accomplishing no immediate victory, all
of us who have hope for intelligence and would choose the better things
of the mind, must cheerfully enlist once more in the oft-defeated cause
of reason. Though we know that the humane philosophy of Aristotle,
of Christ, and of Aquinas has never yet been widely practised, and that
allegiance to it is ceremonial more often than even theoretically sincere,
yet for us it is still the best that has been said or thought in the world.
And, however vain our chanupionship of it may seem, yet if men will
take even a passing interest in an idea, we may perhaps prepare in the
public mind a greater susceptibility to those seeds of reason which when
they fall only on the instincts, fall on very hard ground indeed. The
League of l^ations, for example, is an idea, but being an idea, it cannot
hope to succeed as the articulation and harmonizing of purely in-stinctive
patriotism. It can become effective only when the patriotisms
brought under it are of the same order as itself, rational 'and moral.
There is no reason to hope, nor particularly to wish, that the various
patriotisms of the world, even though they should become rational,
would be identical or even in much initial harmony with each other, any
more than we can expect the rational ideals of the individual to
coincide with the ideals of his neighbor. But once we have raised
patriotism to the level of reason, we shall have brought it to the
sphere of intelligence and responsibility in which light and agreement
can conceivably be arrived at.
II
Meanwhile, it is only for the principle of patriotism as moral
responsibility that we need to plead. The principle truly needs our
championship. There are those in the world still who find no m.eaning
State Literary and Historical Association 37
in life, who give it up as a hard question put to us daily for our irrita-tion
without hope of an answer. There are others, the majority among
us, who find an answer to the question in obeying our instincts and in
submitting to our environment. There are still a few who look for the
answer in man himself, in his control of his insttincts and his
dedication of the environment to his own uses. The majority of us, I
repeat, have relegated fate to the world about us ; in modem philosophy
it is the universe, not the human race, that has the real adventure in
morals. A few of us, however, following Greek thought as we believe
at its best, would place the throne of fate as much as possihle in our
own nature, giving to ourselves a divine possibility, the freedom of
choice that a god should have, and a responsibility for his actions that
not even a god could avoid. As Herodotus and Thucydides wrote history,
they explained their wars or their other afflictions as caused by the
ambition or the selfishness or the unwise decision of individual men, and
for their happiness and prosperity they gave credit not to the environ-ment
but to their fellows. When Peisistratus set up his tyranny in
Athens, Solon addressed the famous verses to his neighlbors:
"If ye have endured sorrow from your own baseness of soul, impute not
the fault of this to the gods. Ye have yourselves put the power into the
hands of these men."
And when Pericles in his great speech had extolled the city above all
other states, he turned the glory into a crown for the dead:
"The Athens I have praised is only what these men have made it."
The difference between this Greek point of view and ours is a
difference of philosophy, not, as we often fancy, a difference of knowl-edge.
We need only examine Thucydides or Herodotus to be persuaded
how modern were those old historians in their observation of economic
or other advantages or handicaps ; they saw all that we see. Thucydides
tells us that the richest soils are always most suhject to a change of
masters ; he gives as his opinion that Agamemnon was enabled to raise the
expedition against Troy more by his superiority in strength than by the
oaths of the suitors to follow him; he says that the expedition against
Troy was small, not for lack of men but for the difficulty of providing
an adequate commissary, and he thinks the Trojans were able to hold
out so long only because a large proportion of the Greeks had to culti-vate
the invaded soil or forage for supplies ; he points out the significance
of sea power, in peace and in war; he says that the Peloponnesian war
was made inevitable by the growth of the Athenian power, and the fear
which this inspired in the Lacedaemon. All this sounds modem. But
Thucydides does not make up his history out of the environment—out
38 Twentieth Annual Session
of economic or any other external conditions; rather, lie goes on to tell
how Athens decided to protect the Corcyrans against the Corinthians,
and how this decision started the war ; how the Spartans massacred the
Plataeans, and how the Athenians exterminated the inhabitants of Melos,
and the moral results of those actions; and how at last through evil
choices the power of Athens was destroyed. He hoped, he said, that his
record might he prized not as a romantic chronicle of events, hut as a
storehouse of human wisdom, that it might he judged useful by those
inquirers who desire an exact knowledge of the past as an aid to the
interpretation of the future. With this purpose, he treats the Pelopon-nesian
war as a series of decisions which the combatants had to make,
and the battles and other events follow as the divine commentary on the
decisions. He introduces the account of conduct in each instance with
an elaborate report of the debate of which that conduct was the event,
and we hardly needed his hint to observe that the speeches as he gives
them were probably never made, but are his statements, rather, of the
various points of view which converged on that issue. His interpretation
of history, therefore, is neighbor to Plato's method in philosophy, a
dramatizing of moral ideas, for the better observation of their implica-tions.
Much as we may admire this high-mindedness in Thucydides, who has
been a long time dead, I confess I cannot perceive la tendency in living
historians to imitate it, nor in the rest of us to desire it of historians now
writing. Explain the fall of a great power as the moral consequence of
its decisions! A British historian might so narrate the collapse of
Grermany, but would a German historian so narrate it? Or would an
English or American historian tell the story with such a conviction of
moral responsibility, if it were Great Britain or the United States that
had come to disaster ? And if he did, what would we do to him ? But
Thucydides was an Athenian. Writing of his own city and of his own
day, he refused to remove from man the dignity of moral choices; he per-sisted
in the faith that the good and the bad of life are not causes, but
rather things to choose between. The extremes of Aristotelian temper-ance,
the earthly and the heavenly steeds in Plato's vision, were to come
under the control of intelligence. Because of this locating of fate in
human conduct, this enshrining of the god in the heart of mian, the Greek
philosophy once seemed humane, and the monuments of the Greek spirit
were called the humanities. We have kept the word but have somewhat
lost the old meaning. The humane person was one who understood his
responsibility for his own moral career; with us the hum'ane person is
one who by his benefactions becomes as it were the moral system of his
neighbor. Our kind of humaneness Herodotus noticed from time to
State Literary and Historical Association 39
time in the character of a Persian tyrant, but we must search long for
it in portrait of a Greek, who thought it a greater (benefit to increase
the freedom of a man's moral choice than to protect him from the choice
altogether. Says Pericles:
"The freedom which we enjoy in our government extends also to our
ordinary life. There, far from exercising a jesilous surveillance over
each other, we do not feel called upon to be angry with our neighbor for
doing what he likes. Yet we obey the laws, not only the written, but
also those which, though unwritten, cannot be broken without dishonor."
'Noi all the hearers of Pericles understood his high philosophy, of
that we may be sure. Doubtless many of those dead whom his oration
immortalized had fought for their portion of Attic soil instinctively,
with a quite simple clinging to their hearth, and with no more complex
patriotism. When the Peloponnesians began to invade the country, it
was by the advice of Pericles that the country folk had removed to the
city their wives land children, their household furniture, even in
some cases the woodwork of their houses. Thucydides says they found it
hard to move, since most of them had always lived in the country. They
were pagans in the old and profound sense, rooted to the earth by
immemorial pieties; the soil they worked in was one with the dust of
their fathers. They were mindful too, of a legendary independence, of
the self-«ufficient dignity of each minute village in the days before
Theseus made Athens a political center. Prom such households there
musit have been many recruits in the Athenian army who fought not
exactly because they had made an Aristotelian choice, but because it
was unthinkable not to defend the family hearth and the family tombs.
Just who the invader was, made no difference—Xerxes but yesterday,
Archidamus today. The relatives of such men, listening to Pericles,
may indeed have felt in some dim way the difference fbotween instinctive
patriotism and that vaster loyalty, moral and to their minds impersonal,
of which the political orator spoke; but they probably preferred the
loyalty of instinct.
It is just because the audience may not have agreed with Pericles in
his immortal oration that we may turn to it now for light. On what
subject did they disagree? We are often reminded nowadays that
Pericles was seizing a dramatic occasion to glorify Athens and the cause
of which he was the leader. On what ground did he glorify Athens ? He
representejd it as a state for which the citizen was morally responsible
;
and if some of his hearers disiagreed, it was because they doubted their
share in this responsibility, or in their hearts may have declined to
accept it. The grandeur of the oration is in the attempt to dedicate a
whole people to a moral instead of an instinctive philosophy—grandeur
40 TwEi^TiETH Annual Session
no whit lessened by the reluctance of the people to be so dedicated. The
entire ceremony of which the oration was a part, had for its purpose to
enlarge the tribal loyalty to the dimensions of a national ideal, and
gently to bring away the ancestral religion from merely local shrines,
and attach it to a place of common and intertribal memories. In the
funeral procession, says Thucydides^ cypress coffins were borne in
cars, one for each tribe, the bones of the dead being placed in the coffin
of their tribe. So much concession at least, to a natural and instinctive
patriotism. Among these coffins was carried one empty bier, decked
for the missing—that is, for those whose bodies could not be recovered.
Finally, the dead were laid, not in their ancestral burying grounds,
in the ancient villages they had perished to defend, but in the public
sepulchre, in the subur*b of the city called Beautiful, where they who
fell in war were always buried, with the exception of those slain at
Marathon, w'ho for their extraordinary valor were interred on the spot
where they fell. It was over the new graves in the military cemetery
that Pericles spoke, before mourning relatives who perhaps would have
preferred to bury the dead sons or husbands nearer their ancestors
—
as some of us, with the same instinct, would bring them home from
France; so much more comforting is it, in spite of all we profess as to
matter and spirit, that they should be covered with familiar dust than
that they should rest in an idea.
Before such hearers Pericles made his great plea for intelligent patri-otism
:
"What was the path by which we reached our eminence?" [he asked.]
"What was the form of government under which we became great? Out of
what national habits did our greatness spring?"
Our institutions are free, he continued ; advancement in public life goes
!by merit, and liberty in private life is without lawlessness. "We have
leisure for the mind, and we welcome the stranger within the city. But
most of all we are morally responsible, and we cultivate reason. We
place the disgrace of poverty not in owning to the fact but in declining
to struggle against it. Instead of regarding discussion as a hindrance
to action, we think it an indispensible preliminary to any wise action
at all. In our enterprises we both dare and deliberate, and we give the
palm of courage to those who best know the difference between hardship
and pleasure, and yet are never tempted to shrink from danger.
"The Athens I have praised," [he concludes,] "is only what these men and
their like have made her. For this offering of their lives, made in common
by them all, they have each received that renown which never grows old
(1) The following passages are paraphrased and adapted from the translation by Crawley,
State Litekary and Historical Association 41
and for a sepulchre, not so much that in which their bones are placed, but
that noblest of shrines wherein their glory is laid up to be eternally
remembered. For the grave of great men is the whole world. In lands far
from their own, far from the funeral shaft and the epitaph, there is also
a wider record of them, written in the human heart."
Those hearers who were reluctant to leave their dead in the national
cemetery musit have known that the last great phrases were directed
particularly at them. They prohably felt that Pericles was going quite
too far when he threw ovenboard altogether the genius of locality, and
said that the grave of great men is the whole world. But they had one
tradition even in their tribal pieties, w^hich may have helped them to
understiand better than we do his doctrine of moral responsibility in
patriotism. They may not have followed him in the argument that
man's concern is with the moral world ; that he must take sides in moral
questions; that the crisis of the state is simply his problem in morality
on its largest scale; that the state is his creation, his poetry, the last
incarnation of his ideal life, which should sum up all his other arts. But
every one of them, of whatever tribe, would recall in his own history
the legend of those who had founded states—Theseus and Solon, and
innumerable other heroes from mythical time. Some of the states
founded turned out well, he would recall; others were bad. In either
case the legend explained the result Iby the icharacter of the founder.
He would think of these pioneers as we think of the pilgrim fathers,
for whom the creation of government was not an end ; but the Greek who
listened to Pericles would also feel, as we sometimes do not, even when
we think of the pilgrim fathers, that no state is estaiblished once for
all, that no settlers are the exclusive pioneers, that no citizen, therefore,
IS excused from exercising the duty and the rigfht to found the state again
in his own moral choices. Athens had learned «arly to condemn all
neutrals in public affairs. Plutarch reminds us of Solon's law that
whenever a rebellion or sedition occurred, those who had not taken a
definite stand on one side or the other should be disfranchised. With
these principles in mind, the philosophers taught that all education
should have for its end intelligent and moral citizenship, and that
the difference between tyranny and democracy is that the tyrant has the
moral responsibility for the state which he alone creates, whereas in a
democracy all the citizens share the continuous founding, and all are
responsifble for it. The Athenians from the outer villages may have
been restive under the far-reaching phrases of Pericles, but if they
reflected at length on the doctrine, they would recall that the heroes of
their antiquity had practised that virtue for Which the great statesman
was now speaking.
42 Twentieth Annual Session
III
The wish to dedicate Athenian patriotism to a moral career, to raise
it up to the region of ideas, in which conscious responsibility is pos-sible,
is found in other Greeks than Pericles—in Socrates, in Plato, in
Aristotle, and in the orators ; and if our modern interpretations are not
altogether mistaken, it is the inspiration of most of the dramas
Euripides composed. If we look at life fairly, with due allowance for
all its difficulties and for the immense pressure in the daily routine
that holds us, by a spiritual gravitation, to leaden-footed contact with
familiar paths, it is not surprising that none of these prophets was per-manently
listened to, or that Socrates and Euripides, the most out-spoken,
were condemned by public opinion. A similar fate has attended
others in later centuries, who with the same loftiness of spirit tried to
translate into terms of reason the passion for their city or for their
land. Dante hoped so to consecrate loyalty to Elorence and loyalty to
Rome. He dreamt of a two-fold city of God and earth, the Church and
the Empire, both implanted by divine love in the midstream of history,
that through both at once man might enjoy here the moral career with-out
which no soul can be disciplined for heaven. That he wrote of
monarchy and thought in terms of the empire is of little consequence in
comparison with the fact that his ideal state was to be a moral oppor-tunity,
and that in his definitions of it he lays down a program for
intelligence. Others might love their native Florence for other reasons,
or with very differennt purposes might speculate as to the reform of
church and state, but this is the old and rare philosophy—how familiar
in the periods Thucydides and of Aristotle ; how very unfamiliar still in
the actual patriotisms history records ! In politics as in science, he
begins^ we must do for posterity what our ancestors did for us; we
must be ourselves in turn ancestors. For simply to be loyal to the past
is to bring the past to an end, as the talent was buried in the napkin. We
do not value a tree for last season's fruit. What fruit would you bear by
demonstrating once more some theorem of Euclid ? Who, after Aristotle,
need expound the nature of felicity? Or who, after Oicero, need under-take
the apology of old age?
He continues by expounding his new fruits in very old terms, yet
they keep forever a kind of novelty, since the race has but seldom at-tended
to them, least of all, perhaps, in the very tiraes and places where
they have been learned by rote. The poet was aware that his contempo-raries
would in one way recognize the Aristotelian echoes, but in quite
^De Monarchia, paraphrased and adapted from Wickstead's translation.
State Literary and Historical Association 43
another sense lie hoped that these great definitions, these essential
manoeuvres of the mind, might come like revelation to men sunk in
passions and instincts. There are some things, he pro'ceeds, in no degree
sulbject to our power; they are for our thoug'ht and contemiplation.
Other things, hov^ever, are subject to our power; we can think about
them and do them. In the case of these, which compose the world of
our moral responsibility, the doing is not undertaken for the sake of
thinking, but the thinking for the sake of doing. The whole field of
politics is eminently a part of this moral world, in which intelligence
should precede conduct. For (passing over the special arguments for
monarchy) the human race is best disposed when most free. This will be
clear if the principle of freedom be understood. The first principle of
freedom is freedom of choice, which many have on their lips but few
in their understanding. They get as far as saying that free choice is
free judgment in matters of will; and herein they say the truth, but
the import of the words is far from them. What is judgment?
Judgment is the link between apprehension and appetite. For first
a thing is apprehended, then when apprehended it is judged to be good
or bad, and finally he who has so judged it pursues or shuns it.
With this simple capitulation of old principles Daoite emibarks on
his demonstration of God's will as to the empire and the church. By
the same principles in his great poem he judges the politicians of
Florence, friend and foe, and assigns to them with fervent rigor their
place in hell or purgatory, and by the same principles he judges his own
failure to deserve the salutation of Bciatrice. One who has moved in the
true order of reason, in which judgment controls appetite or instinct,
and who yet condesicends to a lower order, in which appetite or instinct
controls judgment, has abdicated his high station, a little lower than the
angels, and has joined the belasts. For he has isurrendered his freedom,
as the patriot surrenders liberty w*hen his patriotism becomes only in-stinctive.
If the judgment is moved by the appetite, which to some
extent anticipates it, it cannot be free, for it does not move of itself, but
is drawn captive by another. And hence it is that 'brutes cannot have
free judgment, because their judgments are always anticipated by
appetite.
If we may speak of appetite and instincts interchangeably, then these
axioms and definitions allow no room among the virtues for that kind of
loyalty to city or state which is instinctive. The natural love for one's
birthplace or for one's habitiat is a force which jud'gment or reason
should guide ; it cannot be an ideal in itself. It is for this doctrine of
freedom that Dante stands in the race memory with Pericles and the few
other great statesmen who have seen the moral aspect of patriotism. If
44 Twentieth Annual Session
you protest tliat Dante used his axioms and definitions as a base on which
to set up a defence of monarchy, I reply that Milton, la patriot of an
equally reasoned morality, used much the same axioms and definitions
to defend the idea of popular government; in either case, the political
program they chose is far less important than the fact that the choice
was rational. If you olbject again that such diversity of result is in-convenient
or deplorable, and that a kind of patriotism which permits
diametrically opposed conclusions cannot be sound, I must reply that
this criticism can be brought against any system of morality which
sipecifies freedom of judgment as one of its principles. The desire for
unanimity is a deep-rooted instinct, which leads speedily to confusion
wherever two or three are gathered together, for unless the ideal of free
judgment tempers somewhat the demand for harmony, our instincts
persuade us that those who disagree with us are evil. If you allow as
much , so far as the individual is concerned, yet believe that the general
good is best served when the citizens do not distract each other by vari-ous
ideals, however rational, of the state they yield allegiance to, but
simply and with single devotion love that state as it is, I reply that such
a program of instinctive patriotism would produce harmony in the
United States, in Great Britain and in Japan, let us say, and war among
all three. The grace to understand and to sympathize with the stranger
within or without our gates comes not by instinct but by the discipline
of reason. It was a mistake for Dante to argue for unity of decision in
the moral world; he then had to argue for one empire and only one.
Milton, likewise, had he pressed his political applications far enough,
would perhaps have deserted the principle of moral liberty and reached
a Puritan intolerance. Pericles in the midst of his great vision was
pleading for Athenian supremacy. This is to say that aill three were to
some extent caught in a natural instinct. But to all of them it would
have seemed intelligent to use Wordsworth's image of the nobler alle-giance
; he felt for England, he said, as the mother for her child. The
love of the mother for her child, not the love of the child for its mother.
If our country is only our mother, we owe it reverence and gratitude, but
it is too late to control its career. If it is our child, however, we are
responsible for it.
IV
I offer ancient examples of a constant problem. In a world shared by
both instinct and reason, the wise man will desire both in their strength
even though it is hard to reconcile them. The stronger the instinct, the
harder to control it ; the instinct which begets love in us for our country
will sooner or later, if uncontrolled, beget hate in us for other countries
;
State Literary and Historical Association 45
yet if tihe instinct is not strong, what energy is there to control ? In the
United States we have become detached from the soil; we have moved
ahout from place to place, we have almost forgotten, some of us, what
the household hearth looks like; no wonder that the instinctive loyalty
which defends particular places and neighborhoods has seemed to fail
within us; no wonder that we have tried to fan it into new flame. I
believe we shall succeed in rousing such fervent gratitude in the average
American heart for the fact that he is an Ameri<3an. and such unquestion-ing
devotion to the land as it is, that unless we quickly bring our impulses
under the control of moral judgment, we may become a menace to the
earth. That way to madness is easier than we may think. To follow
such a course is not only to withdraw within our appetite, as Dante would
say, but it is also to leave the weapons of reason entirely in the hands
of the crank, the agitator, and the radical, who whatever else may be
their ignorance, understand the force of the old doctrine, that who most
avail themselves of reason shall have the greatest power. The ideal state
which the radical portrays seems to some of us an abomination. It has,
however, the one great virtue of being an ideal, for which the agitator
not infrequently goes to jail. We meet his ideals chiefly with our in-stincts.
It is a natural instinct to build the jail and put him in it. But
is there no ideal America to oppose to his, no ideal more soundly im-agined,
which reason might successfully urge upon him? Are we less
than he the children of Plato, dreamers of ideal states and builders of
just republics? If that is true, if we have surrendered to others the
exclusive use of rational processes, then for us the monuments of liter-ture
and history have lost their meaning; the ages have stored up wis-dom
in vain.
But not in vain, we believe. The country our fathers bequeathed to us
is too precious to be interred in any of our instincts, not even in the
noblest. Too miany dreams have voyaged to our shores for us to let go
the habit of vision. And the 'patriotism which still dreams, has in it
promise of the highest morality. We shall be as a iguard set about the
established city. We shall earn the right also to say with the Athenian
envoys thousands of years ago, "We risked all for a city that existed only
in hope..''
William Richardson Davie and Federalism
By H. M. Wagstaff
University of North Carolina
Just a round century ago William Ricliardson Davie died upon his
estate in South Ca'rolina. It is fitting that the Literary and Historical
Society of lN"orth Carolina, the state to which he gave his greatest
service and which has every right to claim him as her own, should at this
time assess the value of his contribution to her life.
Da'vie was born, 1756, in Egremont, Cumberlandshire, England. At
seven years of age he was brought to South Carolina and adopted by his
maternal uncle, William Richardson, a Presbyterian minister who owned
an estate in the Waxhaw settlement on the Catawba. His preliminary
education was at the hands of his uncle, then a period at Queen's Acad-emy,
Charlotte, ISTorth Carolina. He then entered ITassau Hall, Prince-ton,
and received his arts degree at the hands of Dr. John Witherspoon
in 1776, having employed his preceding vacation as a volunteer in the
American army in its unsuccessful defense of l^ew York against the
British. With this youthful taste of military service, and upon the
death of his uncle almost coincident with his graduation, Davie returned
to South Ca'rolina and almost immediately thereafter entered upon the
study of law at Salisbury in !N"orth Carolina. In the following year
he interrupted his studies to join a' military force under General Allen
Jones which was moving southward to aid in the defense of Charleston.
In 1779 he became lieutenant of dragoons raised in the Salisbury Dis-trict,
was attached to Pulaski's Legion, and integrated with General
Lincoln's army of the South. In the fighting about Charleston he was
severely wounded. During his tedious recovery he resumed his law
studies at Salisbury and received his license in the spring of 1780. The
rising tide of British success in the state to the south called him again
to arms in the same year. He was now in continuous service to the
close of the war and emerged from the conflict with a reputation for
military skill and daring second to no partisan leader in the South.
After peace Colonel Davie married Sarah Jones, of Halifax, eldest
daughter of General Allen Jones, his old military commander. He
settled in Halifax for the practice of law and swiftly made a high place
for himself in his chosen profession.
Davie's political activities form an intimate chapter of the state's his-tory
for the next twenty years. His political views, however, would
State Literary and Historical Association 47
liave scant meaning to present time unless projected upon the back-ground
of our early republican era. The ISTorth Carolina of the first
two decades after the Revolution held in solution the elements which,
though slow in precipitation, were ultimately to shape her present
character. Social democracy was more nearly a reality in IN^orth Caro-lina
than in either her neighbor to the north or to the south. This
had been dictated by economic conditions less sharply marking the
rich from the poor. State individualism, infused with the spirit of
democracy, w^as the primary characteristic with which the state had
emerged from the struggle for independence. This characteristic as
a force now found political expression in a studied disregard of obliga-tions
to the Confederation government, in continued harrying of Tories,
in new issues of paper money, in the prolongation of vicious ^^stay laws,"
a7id in extreme decentralization of state authority. It represented the
tentative groping of the democratic spirit unchastened by experience.
The theory of the French Revolution was already born in America be-fore
1789.
It has always seemed to me that the American Revolution was pro-duced
by two distinct sets of forces, emanating from two different groups
of men. Of the first were the reasoned out opinion of intelligent and
educated Americans that they were the equals of Englishmen at home,
equal in all their rights and in all their capacities for self-government.
They were humiliated that England sent officials to America instead of
choosing officials in America. It was natural that these sensitive and
high-spirited colonial-Englishmen should capitalize the blunders of
George Ill's place-men. The other set of forces w^as born of the mass
and was the product of frontier environment acting upon a naturally
independent and individualistic race. It may be summed up as the
spirit of democracy, a thing impatient of restraints, even of those laid
by itself. Ultimately this spirit was to more sharply characterize Amer-ica
in contrast to Europe than even its devotion to the theory of self-government.
This influence affected the mass mind and therefore the larger group
of Americans. Davie and most of the educated men in JSTorth Caro-lina,
as indeed in America, belonged to the first group. Inde-pendence
being won they were now more interested in an orderly re-construction
of the political and economic edifice than in a politico-social
rebirth of the country. This was an immediate and pressing
need if the fruits of victory were to be enjoyed. N^ot only was there
imperative demand for practical attention to after-the-war weaknesses
48 Twentieth Annual Session
of the individual state, but to the bond of union between the states,
which indeed had proved barely strong enough to carry them through
their common danger.
Hence to informed and practical men like Davie first attention after
the Revolution was due to the wounds made by the war; then to put-ting
the new state government in harmony with sound political prac-tice—
practice approved by sound political precedent; and, thirdly, to
strengthening the bond between the states.
But the state had emerged from the Revolution under the control of
the popular or democratic party, the party swayed by popular passion
and inclined to illustrate sharp contrasts with the past. At the same
time this party was characterized by an intense consciousness of the
state's individual sovereignty and an extreme disinterest in the common
government, the Confederacy. This somewhat blatant democracy em-bodied
in its membership most of the soldiers of the Revolution, many
of their officers, the bulk of the state officials, and the mass of what
Archibald Maclaine was fond of calling "the common people."
On the other hand the conservatives made up so small a minority
that they may best be described as a coterie of educated men, mainly
lawyers, who were well fitted for leadership and likely to acquire in-fluence
and power as soon as the passions of the recent conflict began
to cool. Among the best known names in this group were Samuel
Johnston, Benjamin Hawkins, Richard Dobbs Spaight, James Iredell,
Archibald Maclaine, John Steele, and William R. Davie. But in the
years immediately succeeding independence they were able only to exer-cise
a moderating and restraining influence in state affairs. Most of
them found places in the legislature and there, by sheer virtue of talent,
often turned the majority aside from ultra-radical action. Their oppor-tunity
for control, however, was continually delayed. It promised to
appear when, in 1786, it was proposed to strengthen the union by amend-ing
the articles of Confederation. This proposal found ready acceptance
by them in that they had consistently held that the welfare of JSTorth
Carolina was indissolubly linked with her sister states. It would, if
achieved, bring about national and international respectability, a re-sult
that indeioendence did not alone assure. Moreover it would doubt-less
correct various evils from which the country at large or the states
individually suffered. Lastly, to the conservative, the movement seemed
to promise an opportunity for public service and public honors, in state
and nation, to those who advanced it.
Interested alike in all these results the conservatives threw them-selves
with zeal and skill into the work of creating sentiment for amend-
State Literaky and Historical Association 49
ment of the articles. Davie, who liad enjoyed a continuous service in
the lower house as borough member from Halifax, had insisted upon
and procured the appointment of delegates to the Anniapolis Conven-tion
in 1786. In 1787 he was equally insistent upon a commission to
Philadelphia. This the majority granted, though apparently out of def-erence
to the invitation and the urging of the conservatives. The pre-amble
of the act of appointment embodied the sentiments of the con-servatives
and bore the unmistakable stamp of Davie.
ISTevertheless three of the commission, as elected, were of the domi-nant
democracy, Willie Jones, the unrivaled leader of his 'party, among
them,. Jones was a .particularist of extreme type, who, long in control
of the majority party, had confirmed it in tihe view that North Carolina
was its chief and practically only concern. Though he did not oppose
sending delegates to Philadelphia, -political consisteinicy bade him refuse
the appointment. Kichard Caswell, the governor, burdened with heavy
responsibilities at home, also declined, and being empowered by law
to fill the vacancies, named two friends of the movement, in which his
own sympathies were strongly enlisted. Hence the delegation as finally
made up consisted of one democrat, Alexander Martin, and four con-servatives,
William E. Davie, Richard Spaight, Hugh Williamson, and
William Blount.
Of Davie's activity in the Philadelphia Convention we have, of course,
no complete record, but sufficient to show that his weight was thrown
on the side of the large state-group which proposed that representation
in the national legislature should be on the basis of population instead
of an equality among the states. Nevertheless he came to indorse the
compromise of equality in the senate and proportional representation
in the house. Further, he strongly opposed counting out the slave pop-ulation
of the South in making up federal numbers, and finally put
the convention on notice that the South would not federate unless at
Idast three-fifths of the slaves were counted.
Davie returned to North Carolina to meet pressing engagements just
before the convention adjourned. Nevertheless he lost no time in mar-shaling
the sentiment of the other North Carolina conservatives for
the new document. These now became an active working conps for its
adofption, while the democrats looked on interested but questioning.
Even before the convention at Philadelphia had finished its labors
the most far-sighted of the conservatives began to plan the election of
\a state governor in harmony with their views on the matter of ratifica-tion.
They now began to call themselves federal men, and soon there-
4
50 Twentieth Annual Session
after, Tederalists. By assiduous correspondence and personal exertions
practical organization was effected, tlie old conservatives to a man rally-ing
to tlie new and fortunate issue. Control of t!he legislarbure must
be tlie first objective, since tbe legislature elected the governor, and
would be called upon to grant a state convention to pass upon the new
constitution. Every 'prominent conser^^ative in the state became a can-didate
for one or the other branches of the legislature. Intense interest
was awakened as the fight became fast and furious, and much bitterness
was engendered in many localities. The federal leaders took as their
common theme the weakness of the old Confederation and, its corollary,
the need of a firmer iprinciple of union. ^Nevertheless it was clear, as
the campaign developed, that they were forcing the fighting on the new
ground as a means of gaining state supremacy, wfhile the democrats,
thrown upon the defensive, were struggling not so much to assure rejec-tion
of the constitution in advance as to maintain their control. Nov,
desipite the campaign declaration of the federal men, did democratic
victory imply that the new frame of government, when submitted,
would not be accorded due consideration.
The campaign was of considerable educative value and accentuated
interest in larger affairs than the average North Carolinian had been
wont to concern himself. Though the federalists had made a notable
effort, and had attracted numerous recruits to their ranks, they failed
to wrest control from the party in power. The democrats were easily
able to organize both branches of the assembly when the body convened.
Archibald Maclaine, beaten in 'New Hanover, had to solace himself
with the reflection that 'the asemibly contained some men of sense who
would endeavor to do what was necessary.' Davie had easily secured
his seat and appeared in the lower house as the ranking federalist
member. Just from the scene of the constitution making at Philadel-phia
he was prepared to exercise an even greater influence than usual
upon the actions of the assembly.
jN'ow occurred in the legislature a most interesting inconsistency in
political history. The democrats, after a most heated campaign, and
now in full control of both branches, for the nonce held partisanship
in abeyance, and on joint ballot chose Samuel Johnston governor de-sipite
his known opposition to the bulk of principles for which the
majority stood. The explanation lies in Johnston's character, in Davie's
political generalship, and in the nature of the questions which now
confronted the state. Johnston was perhaps the best known federalist
in ]^orth Carolina. As a most influential member in the revolutionary
Provincial Council he was a potent force in the government of ISTorth
State Litekaky and Historical Association 51
Carolina between tlie abdication of Josiah Martin, the last royal governor,
and tlie accession of Richard CasAvell under tbe state constitution. He
served the state wisely and well during this critical period and would
undoubtedly have become the first governor under the constitution had
not Caswell's military achievements suddenly brought the latter into
prominence as a desirable war-time executive. Though trusted by the
whole state for his wisdom, pro^bity, and patriotism Johnston was well
known to be far from democratic either in personal practice or political
theory. This explains his exclusion from political preferment since the
Revolution, save three years in the Congress of the Confederation.
Equally conversant with State and confederation affairs he was regarded
as the man of ripest mind in the State. The democracy, confronted now
with the necessity, even against its will, of fixing attention on Confedera-tion
affairs, began to have a sense of need of Johnston's wisdom.
With the executive office accorded to Johnston by grace, the demo-cratic
majority, also by grace, ordered the election of a state convention
to consider the new plan of government which had been evolved by the
Philadelphia Convention. The election of this convention aroused even
greater popular interest than had that of the preceding assembly. Davie
and James Iredell led the federalistic forces, the former clearly demon-strating
the fact that he was the most eloquent constitutional advocate
in the State. Together the two, at their own expense, issued a pamphlet
in analysis of the constitution that takes rank with the ablest of the
"Federalist Piapers" of Madison, Jay, and Hamilton.
The election of convention delegates resulted in the choice of the ablest
men of both parties, this being made possible by the fact of the old
English practice that any freeholder might he chosen by any county or
borough town whether he was a resident of the same or of some other.
Too, there was an appreciation of ability and character very generally
prevalent in N^orth Carolina during the first four decades after inde-pendence,
that made it possible and not infrequent for a constituency
to confer public honors out of deference to those qualities, even though
the recipient's political views may not have accorded with those of the
electors so honoring him.
When the balloting had closed it was soon ascertained that the federal-ists
had secured only a respectable minority of the seats in the conven-tion.
ISTevertheless their leaders continued to hope that when the body
met it v/ould ratify. In this they relied upon the weight of the ten
states that had already ratified. This was one more than was sufficient
to secure the new union and the abandonment of the old Confederation.
And among the ten was Virginia, whose influence was especially potent
52 Twentieth Annual Session
in the Koanoke and Albemarle regions of J^ortli Carolina, regions whicli
at that time were the most populons, the wealthiest, and therefore the
most influential portion of the state, Davie wrote from Halifax in
June : "The decision of Virginia has altered the tone of the Antis here
very much." But, he further states: "Mr. Jones says his object will
now be to get the constitution rejected in order to give weight to the
proposed amendments, and talks in high commendation of those made
by Virginia."
When the convention met, July 21, Jones proved to be firm in this
purpose. He had kept his party's front quite unbroken, and so adroit
was his one-man-leadership that he was in position to absolutely dictate
the action of the convention. I^^evertheless Governor Johnson, out of
deference to his office and public character, was chosen by unanimous
vote to preside. Davie and James Iredell bore the chief responsibility
for advocacy of ratification. There was not a peer of either of them
in the opposition camp. Virtual admission of this by the democrats
was shown in their declination to enter into debate. They were content
to leave the issue to the test of ballots rather than arguments. Thus for
some days the federalist leaders stood forth to analyze the constitution,
to show the benefits to accrue from its operation, iand to point out the
ills of the old order. Sensing the chief ground oi fear of the democrats
to be an over-strong central authority Davie continually emphasized
the point that the new constitution was, in nature, a comipact between
the states, and the government to be set up under it, their agent. Spaight
also reiterated this view. I^or does their theory seem to have been as-sumed
to lull the susipicions of the opposition. Both had been members
of the Philadelphia Convention and ipresumably knew the spirit in which
the document was drawn.
N'on-adoption, however, was predetermined. Jones finally embodied
^his decision in a resolution which likewise asserted the necessity for a
bill of rights and suggested the call of a second federal com^ention.
To the resolution was appended a declaration of rights similar to that
in